


Princess, Mine

by define_serenity



Category: True Blood
Genre: Angst, Character Turned Into Vampire, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Multi, POV Original Character, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 53,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/define_serenity/pseuds/define_serenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Illeana Tyler, a young empath, ventures a step into Godric's world, she struggles to find her place. Will she find love, or will the vampire world eat her alive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Without prejudice. The names of all characters contained here-in are the property of HBO, Alan Ball and Charlain Harris. No infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission. Illeana Tyler and all other characters labelled (OC) in the header above belong exclusively to me.
> 
> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net and reached its completion there years ago, but I've reworked and refined it and decided to post it here as well. Chapters have been put together, mistakes have been filtered out and hopefully everything just jives a little better. Enjoy!

People say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.

.

.

.

The first time he sees her she’s only four.

A child with brown curls and green eyes.

A toddler in a pink frilly dress her mother bought her the day before.

She’s only four, but for some reason life has already decided to bestow her with one of the worst possible fates.

She’s only four when she sits in a pool of blood.

He knows who did this. He knows _what_ did this. What did this wasn’t thinking, but was driven by an animalistic undeveloped desire. It was a monster, something brutal and predatory. The impulse driving it was something it should have unlearned centuries ago.

Her little hand is patting down in the red liquid, only knowing that it’s something gooey going cold fast, and in the life of a four year old it’s only such things that matter.

He takes pity on her. For the first time in a long time it’s a human that enjoys his favor.

He picks her up and holds her close.

She doesn’t cry; she only stares at him with big eyes.

She’s only four, but her eyes speak of so much understanding that he’s taken aback that she can look at him at all. Vampires did this, some of his own kind, but she still manages to look at him like all is forgiven.

He tells her everything will be all right, he’ll make sure no one hurts her again.

She’s only four, but she knows truth when she sees it in his pale-blue eyes.

Her small hand touches his face, the blood set off starkly against his white skin, but then a soft white-blue light separates the two colors where their skins meet.

He has to keep her safe, he knows that now.

She’s four, so she already speaks, but she tells him that wordlessly.

“Godric, we must go. Now.” Eric joins him in the room, but stops in his tracks when he sees his Maker holding a child in his arms. “What are you doing?” He chuckles, because this has to be a joke. It needs to be. He knows that there are humans nearing, and they must go. They don’t have time to feed.

“We must clean this up,” Godric tells him. Eric stares around the room, blood everywhere. They’ve already removed the parents’ bodies and placed them in the van. There is little they can do still, not with the humans so close.

“Godric,” Isabel rushes into the room. “The humans are coming.” She doesn’t know what to think when she lays eyes on the perfect little girl in her sheriff’s arms.

Godric finally moves, but he takes the child with him.

“We can’t take it with us,” Eric says, his voice low. His tone is moving towards disrespect, but deep down Godric has to know he can never keep the child.

Godric looks at the child in his arms, her green eyes almost pleading with him. How can a human have this effect on him? “Isabel. Take her,” Godric commands.

Isabel does as she’s told immediately. The little girl holds her arms open for her – _curious_ ; she seems to know no fear around them. She feels light in Isabel’s arms, and the girl even giggles. When she gets to the car, Isabel grabs a cloth and wraps it around the little girl. “It’ll be alright, little one,” she whispers.

Inside, she can hear Godric and Eric arguing. Some part of her is grateful the girl can’t hear any of the words being said.

“She’s human. She is not our concern,” Eric argues.

“The child is innocent. One of our own kind brought evil into this house. I will not leave her here.”

“We owe the humans _nothing_ ,” Eric sneers.

Isabel already knows nothing of what Eric tells Godric will convince his Maker to leave the girl behind. Godric has been changing right in front of her eyes for a long time now. But Eric can’t see it.

“We will take her to safety,” Godric commands.

Isabel feels a hand on hers suddenly, and looks down to where little fingers are making bloodstained smudges on her perfect skin. She doesn’t move her hand. She can’t. She has to keep this child safe. “Don’t worry, little one. You are safe now,” she says.

.

She doesn’t speak a word for the three days she spends among them.

The nest is in a state of unrest, despite some of them having human companions.

But a child is something new.

Many look at her like she’s a quick snack, but they won’t touch her, not with Isabel watching over her. They’re not used to having a child around. For food, yes, but never for keeping.

She doesn’t speak. Maybe in the end that’s for the best. By the time she does learn to speak to them, she will long have been accepted into the nest. But that is yet to come.

Most of them begin regarding her with curiosity, having been deprived of anything so innocent for quite some years. Decades even.

“My my, aren’t you just the cutest thing?” Stan says on the first day he sees the young one. She’s only four, but already knows that Stan will be someone to be careful around, recognizes the evil in his heart as something she’s faced before, not too long ago. She’ll learn soon enough Stan only likes his humans for food.

“Her name is Illeana, _Stan_ ,” Isabel says, and holds the girl close. “And you won’t touch her.”

Stan puts his hands up in surrender, but grins as he walks away. He thinks Isabel’s newly discovered maternal instinct will only last so long, but he doesn’t dare to cross her until those feelings fade. A woman’s wrath – a _vampire’s_ wrath – is something to be reckoned with indeed.

Illeana lives like a vampire for three days. She sleeps during the day, so Isabel can make sure none of her nest mates touches her, especially Stan. She’s awake at night. The young one doesn’t seem to have many problems with it.

But she doesn’t speak. It’s almost as if she’s observing, cataloguing their behavior for future reference.

“Your attachment to this child is irrational,” Eric tells Godric when he finds the child in the nest. He doesn’t rule here, but he’s entitled to have his opinions. That _won’t_ change in years to come.

“There is no attachment,” Godric answers calmly, unmoving. He knows that there is some kind of hold, but for now he’s labelled it as curiosity. Why did the vampire that killed her parents leave her alive? “I merely wish to give her a home.”

“This is irresponsible. She threatens _everything_ we keep hidden,” Eric complains, knowing that Isabel can hear it, but he doesn’t care. This is going too far.

“She’s just a child, Eric. She can do us no harm.”

The conversation ends there. It’s all the disagreement Eric allows himself, and all the disagreement he knows Godric will tolerate. He knows that once upon a time, Godric would have left or killed her without so much as blinking. But something has changed in his Maker.

“You know you can’t keep her, right?” Eric asks Isabel when he finds her sitting on the living room floor, the child playing with crayons some of the others bought her. It sickens him to see this _thing_ so easily accepted in their closed circle.

“She will be here until we find her a home.” Isabel stands between him and Illeana now.

“This is insanity,” Eric sneers. “We are not responsible for every human life a vampire touches!” He moves towards Illeana, not one bit sure of what he plans to do if he actually were to get his hands on her.

“ERIC!” Godric raises his voice, a sound rarely heard.

The shock of it all, echoing through the entire nest, starts Illeana crying.

“That’s just great.” Eric rolls his eyes.

“It’s okay, little one.” Isabel has her in her arms again in no time. “ _Shhh_. Don’t cry.” She rocks the child in her arms, but her tears continue. Illeana hasn’t spoken for three days, let alone cry. “I don’t know how to do this,” Isabel despairs.

“It’s alright, princess.” Godric crouches down beside Illeana.

Eric leaves the room; he can’t even look at this.

Godric reaches for Illeana’s ear, and conjures up a coin from behind it.

The little girl gasps, and grabs for her ear. But there are no other coins there.

She giggles when Godric hands her the coin. “We won’t let anything happen to you,” he says, tracing a finger softly up her cheek, almost as if he tries to push the tears back where they belong.


	2. Sad

When she’s seven years old, she loses another parent. She actually experiences the loss this time; Illeana sees her adoptive mother cry and she feels the most cavernous kind of grief for the first time in her short life. But not the last time. Not by far.

It’s been a long day, people offering her their condolences and patting her on the head. She knows what’s going on, she sees it in people’s eyes and feels it in their hearts. Her daddy lives there now.

In truth, Illeana should be too young to understand, but as Godric will tell her in years to come – for her – _knowing is understanding_.

The sun has already set but her mom allows her out on the lawn. She’s on the swing but she sits still; it’s quiet out, and she wants to keep it that way. If she moves she might be reminded that this was supposed to be her happy day. But there’s no happiness to be found.

A rush of air passes by her, and the empty swing next to her moves. She’s not afraid, but she’s not exactly sure what’s going on. She blinks, and there’s another hush of air, and before she knows it there’s a teddy bear sitting on the swing.

She blinks again, and waits, but nothing else happens.

Her little hand reaches out for the fluffy animal hesitantly, but she stops mid-air. She can’t accept it. “It’s a sad day today,” she says, her voice soft. Illeana waits for an answer, because she knows _she’s_ there.

“It’s your birthday.”

The grass cracks with summer underneath her feet. Isabel takes the teddy in her arms and sits down on the other swing. She suspects the girl won’t take the gift from her if she offers again, so she just sits, waiting.

“What’s your name?” the young one asks her.

“Isabel.”

She studies Isabel’s face for a few moments; it’s almost as if she can see right through her. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a flicker of recognition in her sad green eyes. “You’re very pretty,” Illeana says at long last, and all Isabel does is grant the girl a soft smile. She can hear the mother shouting inside the house; maybe that’s why she was allowed out this late.

“She’s just sad,” the little girl explains.

“I was very sorry to hear about your daddy,” Isabel says, and is surprised when she feels tears stinging behind her eyes. It’s not like her to empathize this easily.

“Mommy says he’s in heaven now. Just like my real mommy and daddy,” she sighs, but is unable to hide her grief. She feels like a hole has been punched through her chest, she doesn’t know how else to explain it. Deep down she knows she’ll heal though, like she’s seen so many times.

“Your mommy is right.”

“Why are _you_ sad?” the little one asks suddenly. She finds empathy such a strange thing, not just the word she learned only a few weeks before, but the emotion in itself as well. No one can understand what she feels, not the way she can understand others. Not in the way she _knows_.

“I'm—” Isabel shakes her head, confused; this young girl is so perceptive. “I'm sorry,” the words slip from her lips beyond her control. She faces away from the child; she can’t cry, she _mustn’t_ cry. Isabel feels like breaking down, but she refuses to let the girl see it now. This won’t always be true.

“Why?” the girl asks. She thinks she’s a curious creature, this _Isabel_ , but why would she be sorry? “You didn’t make my daddy die.” No, that was another word she’d learned not too long ago: cancer.

“No, but I—” Isabel hesitates. She can’t admit to it, that was the agreement. Their community was hidden, there is no need for the girl to know about it.

“You gave me a happy home.”

Isabel feels a little hand on hers suddenly, just like three years ago. The little one accepts her gift now, taking the teddy bear from Isabel, to make her see that she is grateful, but this year her day just happened to be a sad day.

“You made me safe again.”

Isabel doesn’t know what to think. How can one so young already see so many things?

“Illeana,” a woman’s voice sounds from the house. “It’s time for bed now.” From the house Beth Tyler sees her little girl sitting on her swing, and next to her the woman who handed her daughter to her three years before. They’d told her they’d be watching over her.

“I have to go,” Illeana says, and hops off the swing.

“Sweet dreams, princess.” Isabel smiles, and watches Illeana trot off towards the house.

Illeana likes to be called princess; it reminds her of her daddy – both of them – and the nice man who performed magic tricks for her once. She wonders if he’s looking over her as well.

Isabel remains in place for hours after Illeana has fallen asleep. She watches over her, just like she promised.

.

.

.

When she hits her teens, Illeana rebels.

When she was younger the other children never liked her. She cried too much, laughed too hard, felt too strongly about everything. Everyone thought it was because she had lost so much already. Even her mother thought it was just a way of compensating.

“They don’t like me,” is one of the first things she tells her mother after her first week of high school. They’re all the same to her, hormone-controlled and selfish. In a way they’re all like her, but in the most important way they’re not.

“Nonsense, sweetie.” Her mother holds her close, and tells her everything will be all right. She’s fifteen, telling her mother the same old thing for the third year in a row, and for the first time in her life she meets with a real lie. It’s not nonsense; she’s not as likeable as the other children. She knows too much, sees too much, and most importantly, _feels_ too much. People don’t like to be meddled with. “Just give it some time. They just have to get to know you.”

Instead of taking her mother’s advice, she starts faking. She knows so many emotions already, she figures it can’t be too hard to mimic one or two of them. She feels like she’s alone, unique, but then she hasn’t met Sookie Stackhouse yet. When she does, she’ll have long learned that sharing her secret isn’t always for the best.

At the age of fifteen, she has to learn that the hard way.

There’s a boy at school that she really likes. She’s gotten so used to being who she’s not that she can tell he likes this other version of her. His name is Dylan, and he’s seventeen. She’s not completely naive, a lie will only get her so far before he discovers the truth, but she takes the chance, because she’s tired of having only her mother to hold onto. That’s the teenager in her taking reign.

“You’re not like other girls,” Dylan tells her, his lips only gone from hers for a second or two, before he attacks them again. It’s uncomfortable, and definitely awkward. “I think I'm in love with you,” he says, his hand moving under her blouse.

She knows it’s a lie the moment the words leave his mouth, but she ignores her own feelings and focuses on his.

She doesn’t like the way he touches her, but she lets him. She digs her way into his heart, but naturally, finds no love for her there. The only thing she finds is bodily lust and carnal desire. Deep down she’s hoping that soon some sort of instinct will kick in, will take over automatically and she’ll find out what love really ought to be.

She reaches deeper when he crashes down next to her, satiated and sweaty. She caresses a hand over his chest, and before she knows it – it’s never happened with anyone else before – a soft-blue light emanates from her hand where their skins meet. That’s _her_ desire right there.

“What the fuck?” Dylan shoots up in the bed, away from her. She reaches for him, but doesn’t manage to utter a single word. “What the hell did you just do to me, _you freak_?”

She doesn’t find out what love is. Not once in her teenage life.

Isabel still comes to see her, every year, when her day stops being a sad day. Her mother knows of the yearly visitation, so Illeana figures the two women have some prior arrangement that eludes her still. She hopes that one day someone will speak to her without lying, without even trying to, just like the man with the pale-blue eyes. She dreams of him, but she doesn’t know his name.

“I'm getting a little old for teddy bears, don’t you think?” Illeana’s sixteen now, only a few hours, but it counts. There’s a blue stuffed animal in her arms, one in a collection of ten going on eleven, but she’s not sure how long she’ll be keeping them around. She’s outgrowing these sort of presents.

“I am— _sorry_ ,” Isabel apologizes. Illeana likes the way her accent plays with the words. “I don’t know what you like.”

“That’s kind of strange considering you’ve been watching me.”

Isabel makes no comment on Illeana’s statement, but she does however have something to say about her leg. Illeana had broken it a week before during one of her nightly escapades with another boy, Timothy. He’d crashed his bike; Timothy walked away with a mild concussion, Illeana broke her leg.

“You’ve been reckless,” Isabel says.

“I’ve been trying to have fun.”

Illeana has become adamant about correcting people when they assume things. She wasn’t being reckless; she was trying to feel alive. Which is quite easy to do when you’re riding a bike with a guy that’s so doped up that all he sees is cherry-blossoms. Inside and outside he let go, and she was just along for the ride.

“How’s that working out for you?” Isabel asks, feigning disinterest. Illeana really knows better, but Isabel’s callous comment still hurts. She knows that Isabel cares for her, and she hates to think that she’s disappointing her in any way.

“Where are you from?” Illeana asks, to get rid of the awkward silence, to forget she’s trying to be an average teenager for a while. “You sound different.”

“Romania,” Isabel answers.

Illeana chuckles. Isabel thinks it’s one of the most rewarding sounds there can possibly be. “Isn’t Dracula from Romania?” Illeana asks, and Isabel’s face goes dead serious.

“What makes you ask that?”

Illeana looks at her intently, but takes another few moments to answer, the word she learned quite a few years before lying in wait on the tip of her tongue, but she keeps it there. After minutes, her response has been thought through carefully. “Your skin is cold,” she says.

Isabel faces away from her. “I am different.” She knows that she should have walked away years ago, or should, now, this very instant. She can’t explain what it is that makes her stay. Illeana has had a hold on her from the moment she met her.

“So am I.” Illeana’s voice is soft and sad when she admits to the one thing she has never said out loud. She _is_ different. And Isabel’s presence makes her feel like there’s nothing wrong with that. “Why doesn’t _he_ ever come?” Illeana blurts out, maybe because she’s more confident now, maybe because she hopes Isabel has finally let her guard down.

She hasn’t.

_Who?_ Isabel means to ask, but something in Illeana’s eyes tells her that she’s talking about Godric. There is something she’s missing about this girl, something special that fascinates and scares her at the same time. Illeana knows, or at least, _suspects_ too much already.

When Isabel doesn’t answer, Illeana figures maybe she isn’t supposed to see her in the first place.

She accepts her teddy bear, and prays fervently that next year she’ll receive another one. 


	3. Violence

Just like most people her age, she goes to college at eighteen.

_Unlike_ most people her age, she has no idea what to do with her life.

Or so they say.

She knows that for most of her so-called friends life is just as big a mystery as it is to her. She has options, because her family has money, and she definitely has the brain to get somewhere in life. She’s just not sure where her talents might be put to the best use.

In the end, she decides to major in psychology. It’s not easy, but it’s not exactly as nightmarish as some of her new friends say it is. It’s just another step in life. And it keeps her close to home. She feels no need to escape it like so many others do. She knows she’s being looked after, and it makes her feel safe.

.

“A car?” Illeana’s eyes go wide when Isabel offers her the keys. There’s a big black SUV parked outside her house. Apparently it’s hers now.

“I believe you were sixteen when you told me you didn’t want teddy bears anymore.” Isabel frowns, but there’s something deviously playful about it. Illeana finds it curious how little by little Isabel is growing more relaxed around her. She suspects it has much to do with the proximity Isabel doesn’t allow herself to have.

“Yeah, because fluffy things have ceased to interest me,” Illeana chuckles. She looks at the car that she’s already fallen in love with, but it feels like too much. Isabel doesn’t owe her anything. “But a car? That’s not exactly proportionate.”

“I can take it back if you want me to.” Isabel stands with her arms crossed over her chest, challenging, and raises an eyebrow.

“No. I’ll keep it,” Illeana blurts out, smiling. “Thank you.”

.

She’s twenty when the vampires decide to come ‘out of the coffin.’ Her roommate, Stacey, thinks she goes into shock when they watch the big news together, while in truth, Illeana is only holding her breath, thinking that any second Isabel will knock on the door, and everything that has been left unsaid over the past thirteen years can be said. But Isabel doesn’t show.

She doesn’t know what to think of this silence. Didn’t Isabel’s distance have everything to do with keeping her secret? Why couldn’t she come and see her every night now that vampires are out? Why couldn’t _he_ come and see her?

“Have you heard from her?” she asks her mother first chance she gets.

“I don’t know who you mean.” Her mother plays dumb, but Illeana knows better. Another lie, another disappointing statement, one in a long line of others yet to come.

“Oh please, mom.” Illeana rolls her eyes. “You’ve known more about this since you adopted me. Did you know what she was?”

“Ana, please,” her mother pleads. No one hardly ever calls her Illeana anymore. “It’s not my place to say. All I know is that she gave me you. That’s all the truth I can give you.”

For once, it is true, it _is_ the truth, but it doesn’t satisfy her curiosity one bit.

.

A few months later Stacey has to interview a vampire for one of her homework assignments. “My first vampire!” Stacey squeals when they leave the classroom together. “This’ll be so exciting! Can you imagine what it’ll be like?” Stacey doesn’t shut up about it for hours after that.

She leaves her friend with the delusion that of the two of them, it’s Stacey that first meets a vampire, but Illeana knows better. Now she knows with absolute certainty that she met her very first vampire when she was merely four years old.

.

“I'm telling you, Ana, he was creepy!”

Stacey lost most of her enthusiasm, but her volume hasn’t gone down for several days. Her _interview with a vampire_ wasn’t all she had imagined it would be. “I felt uncomfortable the entire time, afraid that he’d go for my throat or something. They’re _vicious_.”

“They’re not all like that,” Illeana says calmly.

“How can you possibly know that?”

Illeana doesn’t answer the question. She doesn’t tell her friend that she looked into a vampire’s eyes at the age of four and found kindness and sympathy there. She doesn’t, because it’ll jeopardize her friendship, and deep down, she likes to keep it to herself. She likes to keep him to herself. Her nameless dream-vampire.

.

Her twenty-first birthday comes closer, and Illeana decides she wants a tattoo, something to mark this memorable year. She knows what she wants before even deciding on getting a tattoo. She’s known it her entire life.

She wants truth.

She’s walking to the tattoo shop, the sun already set. She figures that if Isabel wants to see her she’ll just have to find her there. But it’s not Isabel that meets her outside the shop.

He still looks exactly the way she remembers him. It’s curious how strong and vivid she’s kept the image of him in her mind all these years. His pale-blue eyes, _those_ pale-blue eyes, keep her pinned in place.

“Hello, Illeana.” There’s no smile when he speaks to her, only on the inside. His voice is soft and calm, just like she imagines it always is.

It’s been years since he’s seen her, but her eyes are still the same, _green_ , ever-green. He regards her with a curious interest, like he’s not quite sure what to make of her just yet. She looks lonely to him.

“No one calls me that anymore.” Illeana shakes her head, trying to get out of her stupor so she can have a civilized conversation, rather than just a glance to satisfy her for another two decades. She prays that it won’t be so long until next time she sees him.

“Then grant me the privilege.” He bows his head slightly and takes a step closer, his voice compelling, more compelling than her hand on his cheek was when she was four years old. If only she could touch him now; she’d be able to tell him so much more.

“Okay,” she whispers, then blinks. Him, only _him_ to call her that.

“Godric.” He puts a hand to his chest.

She can’t for the life of her encompass all of him, his feelings, his un-beating heart, his many years. She finds calm, such tranquil serenity, so much stronger than anything she has ever felt. And yet she finds conflict, heart-breaking chaos at the core of him.

And even though he is a vampire, an old one at that, she strangely finds herself understanding him. The way she’s always understood everyone.

“Are you really ready to change your body?” he asks.

Illeana thinks it’s a strange question, not only because he’s worrying about her wellbeing, but also because she’s long noticed _his_ tattoos, peeking from his shirt. She never could have guessed he was a hypocrite, too.

“I don’t mind the pain,” she answers. “I know about pain.”

“You’re very mature for your age.” He doesn’t answer her statement, a thing that will reoccur in the future very often. Words aren’t always necessary, just like when they first met. Sometimes, words get in the way.

“And you’re older than you look, aren’t you?”

He finds her choice in words daunting.

“Why are you here? Why now?” Illeana asks. She doesn’t mind his presence, if it were up to her she’d never leave his side again. She feels herself drawn to the puzzling mystery of him.

“Isabel should never have come to see you.”

Illeana feels her heart crash.

“If I had known, I would have stopped her,” Godric continues.

Why is he saying such things? She tries to pierce through to his heart, but he doesn’t let her.

“Because your true nature was a secret?”

“Yes,” he says.

He doesn’t lie, but isn’t entirely truthful either.

She can tell the hesitation, but only just; she realises for the first time that vampires are much more difficult for her to read.

What Godric doesn’t tell her is that he never should have allowed Isabel to grow attached. But he knows he feels the same connection.

What he doesn’t tell her is that a vampire is no friend or companion for a young human girl. He knows that Isabel is somewhat more civilized than others his kind, but it still wasn’t right.

What he doesn’t tell her is that really he shouldn’t be here either.

Because there’s violence in him also. 


	4. Reckless

She’s never been reckless, not according to her definition of the word anyway.

Someone who’s reckless doesn’t think, is controlled only by emotions and isn’t capable of making the rational decision when it matters most. Right now Illeana doubts that she can be anything else _but_ rational. This might just be the most important decision in her life.

“Ana, have you completely lost your mind?” Stacey complains. They’ve been arguing for the past two days. It’s gotten to the point where Illeana has packed up her bags and is ready to leave. “You don’t seriously think you can walk into a nest of vampires and come back in one piece?!”

Illeana realises more and more that Stacey’s starting to resemble the sort of people she dislikes. Inside her roommate’s heart she finds fear for what she doesn’t even understand. That’s where Illeana’s ratio comes in, she _does_ understand, there’s no need for fear of the unknown.

“Stace, please. I’ll be fine. I'm safe there.” She’s told herself this time and time again. Godric and Isabel have kept her safe for the past seventeen years. They will never let anything happen to her.

“Safe from _what_?” Stacey’s eyes go wide. “Think about what you’re doing here!”

Stacey was right, of course, there’s a little seed of doubt that’s always lingered. Her own parents were killed by vampires; why did she feel so safe around Isabel and Godric? It wasn’t reason, it wasn’t common sense.

It was trust.

Illeana knows that’s probably not the right word. She can’t bring herself to admit that it might just be love. Not just yet.

“Isabel invited me, Stace,” Illeana insists, tired of all this scepticism and people fearing for her life. “I'm not going to turn her down.”

“Why don’t you just go live with them then?” Stacey’s reaction is much stronger than anything Illeana was preparing for. In Stacey’s heart, she finds hatred. It frightens her. “Become one of those _fangbangers_! I want no part in this.”

“Thank you for making that so clear to me, Stace,” Illeana answers with more fervor than she intends. She grabs her bags. “I'm gone.”

“No, Ana!” Stacey hurries after her in the hallway, but gives up fast.

Illeana doesn’t want to sever all her ties with the human world, but it’s the humans around her that force her to choose between a world that finds her too emotional, and a world where she’s always felt safe. It saddens her.

“What else am I supposed to do?” she asks her mother, but all her mother does is tear up and look at her the way only a loving parent can. She knows her mother won’t offer her anything rational, but then just maybe she’s willing to talk herself into being reckless. Just this once. If it means she can find refuge, safety, _love_ , what’s wrong with being a little too emotional?

“You have to do what your heart tells you to do, Ana.”

Her mother tells her to be reckless, act without thinking, rely only on her emotions. Illeana understands emotions better than most, but right now her own are a mystery to her.

“Just remember that you’re not one of them.”

She knows she’s not a vampire, but she’s long since realised that she’s not entirely human either. All that she knows is that Godric and Isabel – vampires – are the only ones that never looked at her like she’s a freak.

So she goes, recklessly perhaps, but she puts her doubts aside.

The house is everything she wasn’t expecting. It’s light, and open, and well, _homey_.

“There’s someone I would like you to meet,” Isabel says, and leads her into one of the adjoining rooms to have a more privacy. “This is Hugo.” The man in front of her is filled with a kindness she’s only recognized in herself before, and so much love for Isabel. She likes him instantly.

“Ana,” Illeana introduces herself, and holds out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Isabel speaks very highly of you.” Hugo shakes her hand. His voice is kind. “Almost as if she was your mother.”

“She is.” Illeana shrugs, and smiles. “In a way.” She looks at Isabel, and finds her smiling too. “He’s your—” Illeana hesitates. She’s not sure what to call him, but it’s clear they both feel very strongly about each other.

“Human companion,” Isabel answers.

The word, _companion_ , resonates through her mind like it has always been there, just lying in wait for her to discover it. She wonders in what ways Hugo and Isabel are companions.

“It’s not as uncommon as you think,” Hugo says, and Illeana feels her cheeks flush warm.

“Look what we found hiding down at the Saloon!” a voice sounds through the house. Another two vampires walk into the main living area then, and Illeana immediately recognizes one of them. She never knew his name, _Stan_ , but he stands out still. A shiver shakes her, the potent pain of losing her parents running up her spine.

“Excuse me,” Isabel says softly, bowing her head apologetically. She runs out of the room, Illeana’s eyes barely registering the movement. She knows Isabel is having a conversation in the next room, but she can’t hear any of it.

“What’s going on?” Illeana turns back to Hugo.

That’s when she learns more about the vampire world. She’s twenty-one years old, and a new world is opened to her. There is hierarchy in the vampire ranks. Godric is Sheriff, the highest authority next to the King of Texas, and in this nest, this area, he makes sure his fellow vampires live by the rules.

She’s twenty-one years old when she finds out Godric is one of the oldest vampires in existence. Over two thousand years old. Illeana doesn’t know what to do with that, but she thinks it explains the chaos she found in him.

“Godric, PLEASE!” a voice resounds throughout the entire house suddenly, another vampire. He sounds scared to death. “I won’t do it again.”

Hugo regards Illeana with frightful eyes; he has more experience with this, he knows what might be coming. It’s only then that Illeana truly realises that Godric is a _vampire_. She’s not afraid, but their ways are different. What is about to happen?

She gets up from the couch without thinking.

“Ana, stay here!” Hugo hisses.

Illeana walks into the room hesitantly, but she’s determined not to show any fear. There are only four people there: Isabel, Godric, Stan, and the vampire pleading for his life.

“Ana, you shouldn’t be here,” Isabel says softly, but all Illeana has eyes for is the vampire on the floor, on his knees between Godric and Stan.

“Please, don’t do this!” He’s clutching around Godric’s legs, while Stan is trying to get him to go along. “I’ll do anything, just please, not the tribunal.”

Illeana never thought a vampire could be afraid of anything; the tribunal must be something truly frightening. “What’s the worst a tribunal could do?” Illeana asks softly, and Godric looks at her briefly. She’s not sure, but she thinks she detects a flicker of worry.

“For the crime he committed? Take his fangs,” Isabel shrugs. She looks up at Illeana, who’s staring back at her in confusion. His _fangs_? “They grow back,” Isabel assures her.

“PLEASE!” the vampire still shouts, red tears flowing down his cheeks. “I'm begging you.”

Illeana looks at Godric, and she feels her heart beating faster. He does care, deep down, he’s just very good at hiding it. But if this vampire committed a crime, he must be rightly punished.

“What’s his name?” Illeana asks.

Isabel stares at her for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest. “Joshua,” she answers after long moments have passed.

Illeana doesn’t know where it comes from, this sudden need to prove her worth in a place she’s not sure she even belongs, or would be accepted. She takes a few steps forward, breathing steady but heavy, and stands next to Godric.

“You have nothing to prove to me,” Godric says softly.

She knows this, truly, but she takes pity on the pathetic heap of vampire at Godric’s feet.

“Ana!” she hears Isabel hiss behind her, but before she knows it her hand is moving towards Joshua’s face.

She acts.

Recklessly.

“Get your hands off me, you—” Joshua manages to utter before Illeana leans in and looks into his eyes.

“Joshua,” Illeana says softly, reaching out to a primal sweet spot even Godric still possesses. She knows that everyone else but Joshua and her are tense, because they don’t know what’s going on. Joshua doesn’t either, but he’s looking up into her eyes, and can’t think of anything more to say. “You need to calm down.”

Illeana’s hand comes to rest on Joshua’s cheek. She’s careful, but he becomes complacent underneath the touch of her hand. A light-blue light emanates from where their skins are touching.

“What the—” Stan utters.

“Can you do that for me, Joshua?” Illeana asks. She’s surprised by her own strength, or maybe Joshua’s fear is making him easier to manipulate.

“I— _yes_ ,” Joshua answers.

“Everything will be alright.”

“Everything will not be alright,” Stan protests, and finally manages to take a step closer. “He needs to be punished for what he’s done.”

“I don’t think it’s very accommodating to have him screaming the entire way there.” Illeana straightens herself out and looks at Stan. There’s a lot of anger in him, she can tell, but she feels safe enough with Godric and Isabel in the room with her.

“You better watch that tongue o’yours, little lady. Or I might be tempted to—”

“No. She’s right,” Godric interrupts, and comes to stand between them. It’s curious to see how quickly Stan paces himself. He knows he’s no match for Godric. “Stan, you remember Illeana.”

“The— _the kid_?” Stan remembers her all too well, the little snack that had dug its way to Isabel’s heart. “The kid Isabel made all the fuss about?” He looks at Illeana and finds no objections there. “That’s just great,” he sighs, but says nothing other of it. He grabs Joshua by the neck and drags him out of the room.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Godric tells her softly, after watching Stan making his way out of the house. It has little to do with the rules, but more with his feelings towards Illeana. He doesn’t want to put her through anything traumatic. “You shouldn’t have to see this.” He looks at her briefly, before looking down at the ground.

“I feel safe here,” Illeana says, and takes a careful step closer. She’s not afraid, but she feels that if she treads too fast, she might crush a silence that’s always present. A silence spoken for, and it isn’t her place to break it.

“You shouldn’t.” He looks up at her again. “You can have a normal life.”

“I’m not normal.” She shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Not human. Not vampire. Something else entirely. “I’m not like other people. What I feel, _here_ ,” another step closer. She only has to reach out to touch him. “—in Isabel. In you. It’s calm.”

“It isn’t calm. It’s death.” Godric sighs, but his eyes settle in hers. “Look into my heart,” he says. He can tell she’s taking pity on him; he doesn’t know if he should accept that.

She does as she’s told; she opens up her heart to him and looks inside. Her hand comes to lie gently on his chest. She finds apathy for a world he has ceased to understand, and a world that fears him in return. But it isn’t death, far from it.

“You’re not _empty_ , Godric.” She shakes her head again, taking in a deep breath. “If anything, you’re—” she hesitates.

He knows it. She knows it.

“Say it,” he insists.

“You’re lonely,” Illeana whispers. She wants to tell him more, show him that she can help him, save him, make him complete again. But he already knows what she means to say.

He moves his hand to cover hers. “I cannot be what you want me to be.”

There’s a world out there that she can unravel for him, a world in there that he can teach her to understand. She doesn’t need him to be anything yet, but she’s starting to suspect that maybe soon she’ll crave it. His friendship, his companionship. His love.

She doesn’t tell him that.

“I can settle for this.”


	5. Home

Sometimes Illeana thinks that there’s such a thing as destiny. Maybe everything that has happened to her in the past – good or bad – has led her to this point in her life. The point where she gets to choose between two equally mysterious worlds, neither one where she belongs, but only one where she wishes she did.

She’s always had a home. First with her real parents, then with her adoptive parents, and now, especially now, she has a home with Godric and Isabel. She knows that Godric’s heart holds many doubts, reservations about whether or not a human girl should really be in their midst. But he never utters a word to her about it.

Maybe he figures she can tell.

Maybe he hopes she can’t.

Illeana prays it’s the latter.

The nest accepts her as best as they possibly can. The humans have no problem with her, she befriends most of them in an extraordinarily fast time. It’s Hugo she’s closest too though. Maybe because after only a few months, he becomes a sort of surrogate father to Isabel’s motherly tendencies. And Illeana knows that Hugo cares for her as well.

“You cook?” Illeana’s eyes go wide when she finds Hugo slaving over pots and pans in the kitchen. It’s only there for the humans in the house.

“You don’t?”

She smiles. “Not very well.”

“You have much to learn, my young apprentice,” Hugo says, his mouth curving into a smile. Illeana chuckles, loudly, a sound that’s starting to echo through the rest of the house more often as she grows increasingly comfortable in her new surroundings. Her new home.

Godric would never tell her, but little by little part of him starts living for that laughter. It brings the nest to life.

It brings him to life.

The vampires in the house aren’t as easily persuaded that Godric needs a human by his side. Not once does he claim her as his, nor does Isabel, so the others can’t help but wonder what fascinates their nest mates about this particular human.

“Isabel, please, I don’t need this,” Illeana utters, the others in the room zoning into the scene in front of them. For a while now Isabel has been insisting that Illeana learn how to fight. Godric watches them from his chair in the other room, while he has audiences with some of his underlings.

“You need to be able to defend yourself,” Isabel insists. “Hit me,” she says. “Right here,” and puts out the palm of her hand.

Illeana lets out a frustrated sigh, but can tell that this is a point Isabel won’t be dissuaded from.  “Alright,” she says, and balls her hand into a fist. She lashes out. “AH!” she screams when her fist connects with the cold hard feel of Isabel’s hand.

“That was good,” Isabel says.

“Good?” Illeana grabs for her fingers. “I think I just broke my hand!”

Isabel walks over to her and studies Illeana’s hand carefully. “You’re alright.” Isabel smiles softly, but Illeana returns it with a scowl. “And that was good. Next time, put more weight into it.” Isabel backs away, and puts her hand out again.

“Next time?” Illeana raises an eyebrow, “I'm not going to hit you again!”

It happens before Illeana has even registered it.

Stan rushes towards her from the other side of the room, and has his hand around her neck before she knows it. “Yeah, what she need to fight for?” he says, and behind her she hears his fangs sliding in place to attack. “I could snap her like a twig.”

Illeana’s breathing deepens, her heart gripped by fear; she doesn’t even find the strength to struggle. It won’t do her much good, Stan is too big and too strong, and she can already feel his breath against her skin. Illeana shuts her eyes tightly.

“Stan,” Godric gets up from his chair in no time, but by the time he reaches Illeana Stan already has a stranglehold on her. For the first time in his existence Godric feels powerless.

“You don’t belong here.” Stan runs his nose up her neck, making Illeana cringe, and he breathes her in. She doesn’t know what to do with the lusty desire she finds inside Stan; part of her is repulsed, another part understands. Story of her life.

“Let her go,” Isabel takes a step closer in warning. “Stan!”

Illeana knows that Isabel’s loyalty to her is much greater than her loyalty to Stan. Illeana can’t help but realise that her presence is raising the tensions in the nest. It devastates her to think that she’s destroying this home for others.

“You don’t want to hurt me, Stan,” Illeana reaches out with her voice, her gift less powerful there than it is in her touch. She knows very well that other vampires are watching, and she’s hesitant to reveal herself to them. But she’s fighting for her life here.

“Oh really? Because I'm pretty sure I do.” His grip around her throat tightens, painfully so. Illeana gasps for air, but puts her own hand over Stan’s.

“No. You _don’t_ ,” she chokes out, but she can’t fight him, not even with her gift. She’s not strong enough anymore. Illeana whimpers.

“Let her go, underling.” The sound of Godric’s voice stoops the rest of the room in further silence. Illeana feels herself being released almost instantly. She runs for Isabel’s arms, and when she turns around she sees Godric holding Stan by the neck. It’s the first time she sees his fangs.

Her breathing doesn’t go down, not even when Isabel leads her outside for some fresh air.

Godric joins them outside a few minutes later.

“Princess,” he says, Isabel leaving them their privacy. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Illeana says. She feels Godric’s cold hand on her chin; he raises it to make sure Stan didn’t do too much damage. Illeana’s been in the nest long enough to know that vampire blood has healing properties, but she also knows that Godric would never ask her to drink his blood.

“You can never reveal your gift to them,” he says once he removes his hand again. He’d feared for her life so strongly. The hold she seems to have on him scares him. “People fear what they do not know. Vampires are no different.”

She looks up at him with big eyes. “Do you fear me?”

He smiles softly; it’s something she can’t get enough of. “I find you puzzling,” he says, and pushes back a strand of her hair. It sends a shiver down her spine, but not because he’s cold to the touch. “But no, you do not frighten me.”

Illeana imagines there is very little that can scare him still.

 

.

 

Whenever there’s a time that she can’t sleep, she walks around the house on barefoot. She doesn’t dare to break the silence but for the footsteps she leaves on the marble floors. The daytime is always remarkably calm. She opens one of the blinds, or stands outside by the pool, and bathes in the sunlight. She likes the sun, but would trade it in for the moon and stars in a heartbeat.

“She never asks you to stay with her?” Illeana asks Hugo. They’re in the living room together, bonding over a cup of coffee. She likes Hugo, not just because they can talk freely, but because she knows just how deep his love for Isabel runs. She thinks it’s beautiful.

“Sometimes,” Hugo nods. “But she wants me to lead a normal human life.”

“Have you ever told her you’d give it all up to be with her?” She doesn’t know why she asks the question, but some part of her needs to know that it’s not impossible for someone else to feel this way. Her feelings, _all_ her feelings, are deep and intense. She knows that a vampire’s feelings are far more subtle.

“I’ve asked her to turn me,” Hugo’s voice is low. Illeana’s not sure he means to tell her, but she can tell he needs to. Part of him relates to her. Hugo knows that Illeana is one of the few other humans in this nest that truly understands his affection for Isabel. He can’t read people’s emotions the way that she can, but he understands this hope she’s allowed herself to cherish. “We fight about it.”

“You have to be patient,” Illeana says, and puts a hand down on his shoulder. “They are not as urgent in their lives as we are,” but she also knows that Isabel might never be ready to turn Hugo. As much as Isabel loves him, that love frightens her as well.

Godric’s heart holds some of the same fears.

She knows Godric likes watching the dawn settling over the world, the only part of the day that he can witness. He’s most serene at times like these, watching – waiting – for the day to set in. The cold doesn’t affect him either, so he stands without a shirt. The tattoo reaching up his back is fascinating to Illeana. She knows every one of his tattoos has special meaning.

“Godric. It’ll be light soon,” she says, even though he already knows. She stands by his side, following his gaze towards the horizon.

He smiles at her. “I know, princess.”

“Don’t you think I'm a little old to be called princess?”

Godric raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t speak. He looks at her amusedly. Right, he does have two thousand years on her.

“Will you watch for me?” he asks, returning his gaze to the day’s early light.

“Of course,” she answers softly. He walks away slowly. Not soon after, she hears the blinds close behind her.

She watches the sunrise, just for him.

Sometimes, often – because she’s never needed much sleep, and she can’t stand the thought of no-one watching over him – she watches Godric sleep. She’s glad they don’t sleep in coffins, but it scares her how dead he looks; the white sheets are complements of his pale-white skin.

“You shouldn’t worry so much about me,” Godric tells her, because he knows she’s been there for a few hours. She sits at the front of the bed, her back turned to him when he gets up and walks over to the window. She’s already opened the blinds.

“I thought I was the empath around here.” She smiles, mostly to herself, but the faint flicker of his smile settles comfortably in her heart.

“Yes,” his voice doesn’t betray his emotions. “Who am I to lecture you on emotions? A vampire disconnected and out of touch.” He knows it’s becoming less and less true. Illeana’s becoming his connection to a world that had long since become alien to him. It scares him how much he starts needing her there.

“That’s not what I meant.” She walks over to him. She wants to put a hand down on his shoulder, but she stops herself.

“You shouldn’t worry about me,” he reiterates, and looks at her. Her eyes rest in his for a few lazy moments. They share something there, a common understanding, a need for an absence of words.

“I can’t help it.”

Sometimes, always really, there are moments she feels tension in the air before she finds them in their hearts. There are certain things neither Isabel nor Godric want her to see. She’s seen his fangs a few times now, and she’s all too aware what other purpose they serve. Despite the existence of synthetic blood, Godric doesn’t drink it. It doesn’t sustain him well enough.

One day, she walks in on Godric feeding on a human.

It’s disturbing enough to send her running from the room, her hand covering her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Tears shoot in her eyes, stinging.

_she remembers_

It’s not the feeding that gets to her, she knows it’s the only way for him to survive. It’s not even the thick blood dripping sluggishly from his chin.

_the way her tiny hand once patted down in something red and gooey_

It’s what the image of him feeding awakens inside of her.

_screaming, and chokes of horrific pain_

_feelings of lust she could never understand before_

She knows she’s seen it somewhere before, long ago, with more fear surrounding her. Her parents screaming for help, and begging the vampires that invaded their home to leave their little girl alive. Little did they know, that once their blood was drained, and the vampires moved on to their dessert, it’s their little girl that told them she was not to be harmed.

_just because her little hand rested on their skin for mere seconds_

How powerful she was, even then.

Most nights, when she manages to catch some sleep, images play behind her eyes that upon waking make her wish she’d never fallen asleep in the first place. She can control her fears when she’s awake, but when she does sleep, her subconscious mind plays cruel tricks on her. Sometimes _such_ gruesome scenarios that she tries to avoid sleep altogether.

Godric wakes in the middle of his own slumber to find her already there with him. He doesn’t say anything. He knows all too well about what she dreams.

“What do you dream about?” he asks still. Sometimes talking helps, especially for humans. He hasn’t thought like a human for two millennia, but for Illeana he’s willing to try.

“It’s not—” she shakes her head, her back still, always, turned to him. It’s as if she feels like she’s intruding somewhere she’s not supposed to, but can’t refrain herself from doing so. “It’s not important.”

“Your parents,” he says, but all he ever sees of them is their lifeless bodies right next to a four year old in a pink frilly dress. He feels truly sorry for her, and he hopes, prays almost, that his heart conveys the same sentiment. “Do you dream of the ones that took them from you?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, and he swears he can almost hear it when fresh tears touch her eyes. He’s never seen her quite so vulnerable since she was four years old. Just like then, he wants to wrap his arms around her, conjure up a coin from behind her ear and make her smile again. But he knows that now, so many years later, it’s not magic tricks that can comfort her.

“Lay with me,” he says softly. A fraction of a second he allows himself the selfless hope that she didn’t hear him, but that’s almost instantly replaced by the selfish desire that her heart blossoms at his request, and she’ll lay down in his arms willingly.  

Illeana turns her head slowly, her brow furrowed in a frown. She doesn’t believe what she’s hearing.

 _Please_ he means to add, but whatever is still rational inside him restrains him from speaking the word.

Illeana hesitates. For a second there she doesn’t allow herself to believe her own ears, let alone her own feelings. Did she hear him ask to lie down by his side? To sleep in his bed, to share his dreams with him? To share in a routine that would bring her closer to becoming one of them?

She doesn’t speak when she moves towards where he’s laying on the bed. He helps her get under the covers.

She puts her head down on his shoulder gently, and she feels him smelling her hair.

He thinks she smells of daytime.

“Do you dream?” she asks him softly, putting down a hand on his chest. His hand moves to cover hers. She feels warm in his arms, just like he feels cool to her.

“No,” he says quietly. “No brainwaves remember?”

He imagines he’d dream of sunshine. Or her.

“Emotions are brainwaves too.” She raises her head slightly to look up into his eyes. Damn those eyes, those pale-blue fountains of history. “How come I can read your emotions?”

“Emotions are also chemical reactions. My body has those.” He turns his gaze towards the ceiling. He’s not embarrassed to talk to her about this subject, but he’s not as at ease as he could be. “Just like yours does.”

She knows what he’s trying to avoid saying.

“Like hunger,” she whispers.

“Like hunger,” he echoes. 


	6. History

Isabel is no fool. And she’s definitely not blind either. Her own affections for Illeana are great, but she sees Godric’s feelings for her grow every day. Their powerful leader spends whatever free time he has with her, talking to her, watching her, and most importantly, sometimes he even smiles.

“She’s changing him.” Isabel smiles, and turns around to face Hugo.

Hugo stares back up at her, but only half-heartedly returns the smile. Of course he knows what Isabel means. In the course of only four years Godric has changed. When he got here eight years ago Godric hardly ever surfaced. Now, four years after Illeana first arrived, he’s almost happy.

 _Almost_.

Hugo loves Illeana, cares for her the way he imagines he would care for a real daughter. But the attention Isabel gives her feels like too much. It makes him almost jealous, but he doesn’t admit that to himself. Because he also loves Isabel more than anything in this world. More and more though, like a cancerous doubt seeding its way into his heart, he starts wondering if that love is reciprocal.

“Do you think he loves her?” Hugo asks, and moves to stand behind Isabel, who’s staring down out the window, watching Godric and Illeana having a conversation out on the patio. She can no doubt hear everything that’s being said between them.

Isabel doesn’t dare to speculate about Godric’s feelings towards Illeana. She’s known her sheriff for a very long time, but she has never seen him love anyone. He has never called a human his, not since she met him forty years ago. But he has changed, that much is apparent to everyone.

Godric is the oldest vampire in the Americas. This has been true for a very long time. He’s never met one older than himself. Some say that his power exudes from him, pouring out of him without him needing to speak a single word. He is simply that powerful.

He knows that is true for at least one person. He doesn’t need to speak for her to know he needs her, no words need to be uttered for him to know when she needs space. As much as she is growing comfortable in the nest, she is still human. He will never question her needs.

She’s twenty-four years old, and he is over two thousand. They make the strangest combination, but combine they do. He knows her, and she understands him, strangely so. He’d never dreamed she would make him start hoping again.

Godric hears Hugo’s question to Isabel, but is grateful Isabel doesn’t answer. In truth, he’s not sure if he is still capable of answering the question himself. He has felt love before in many forms, and he’s almost certain that what he feels for Illeana resembles love, but he doesn’t allow himself the thought.

The thought of loving another human woman.

The thought of time catching up with them.

The thought of losing her.

He doesn’t allow such things to surface.

“Have you ever been married?” Illeana asks him, almost as if she has picked up on a feeling inside him he was trying to disguise. Trying to forget.

“Not in the traditional sense,” he answers. He never did have a wedding ring. “But yes, I had a wife. Before I was turned.” She had only been fourteen years old when they met, but in those times it wasn’t uncommon to be married at such a young age. He was already a man at fifteen, a wife followed not long after.

“And children?”

Godric stares out in front of him for long moments, rekindling the memories in his mind. They are as clear as day, as if the past never happened, as if history somehow had eluded him and forgot to include him in its pages. But it was there, lying in wait to be resurrected if ever there was one such as Illeana to ask him about it.

In a way, he _was_ history.

He remembers them clear as day; a young boy with his mother’s bright-blue eyes and black hair, and a girl with his eyes. When he was born it was his destiny to work alongside his father in the fields.

But then the Romans came.

“A son, Kenneth, and a daughter, Freya,” he says solemnly. He’d left them, his wife and children, to defend their lands from the foreign intruders. He never once saw them again.

Illeana regrets asking him the question, but for once her curiosity had gotten the best of her. When he answers her question, she meets with a feeling she recognizes, but will never know herself. Godric feels sad, and nostalgic, but also angry. She imagines it has much to do with the mind-set of a part of history she will never understand. Those were different times.

“And of course there is Eric,” Godric adds, and looks at her briefly. Yes, he loves Eric, in a very different way than would be humanly accepted, but it was love.

“Eric?” The name rings true in her ears, and the image of a blond-haired vampire comes floating in her peripheral vision. He was never as cruel to her as Stan was, but he never did like her. The feeling was mutual.

“I am his Maker,” Godric says, “He is Sheriff of Area 5 now.”

Illeana smiles softly. Such different and conflicting feelings she finds in him. “You care for him. Deeply.”

“Of course.” Godric looks at her. It’s silent for a while as he thinks back on those days. He’d been magnificent, _Eric_ , still is. A graceful warrior on and off the field. The only human he ever turned.  

“What about others?

“Other women, you mean?” He understands all too well why she’s asking these questions. He’s told her some of his history, but had never talked about his human life. His human life doesn’t matter anymore. “I am over two thousand years old. I have loved and lost a great many.”

“I am not judging you.” He can’t help but notice how her sentence constructions are starting to resemble his. “I'm merely curious. I'm told it makes me very human.” She tips her head playfully, trying to ease the mounting tension between his words.

He smiles, and softly traces a finger down her cheek. “It does.”

“Please,” she pleads.

“There have been women,” he answers, but doesn’t look at Illeana as he does.

She can’t help but wonder where his sudden feeling of guilt comes from. Underneath, cloaked right beneath the surface of the emotion, she finds violence. How many women has he killed in his lifetime? How many men? How many _children_?

“There was one,” Godric continues, “Deirdre. She—” he hesitates.

He remembers all too clearly. _The conversations in front of the fire_. _The days spent with her asleep in his arms_. His vampire memory has always been both a blessing and a curse. It’s one thing to remember the good times, it’s another to be condemned by them.

He feels Illeana’s hand on his chest suddenly.

It gives him the strength to look at her.

How can she sit by his side willingly, knowing what he is?

How can she love him, when he’s not sure he can ever give her his heart?

How can any of them have loved him?

“She was enchanting,” he continues. _Her long red hair_. _Her soft grey eyes_. “She knew. She accepted me. She never questioned it.” _Up until the point where he watched her die in someone else’s arms_.

“You still love her,” Illeana whispers. In her own heart, she finds jealousy for the first time in her life. She’s ashamed of feeling it.

“I’ve stopped viewing the past as something I carry with me,” he says softly. “It’s easier that way.”

She briefly wonders if there will ever come a time where he will forget her, but the thought gets pushed to the back of her head; if she thinks about it too much her heart might break. “But it still makes you who you are.” She imagines his history looks like a blueprint to an ancient ruin.

.

The nest doesn’t celebrate birthdays; they’ve all had too many already and finding all of them gifts has become nearly impossible. Most of them already have everything they need. Still, every year, despite having told Isabel she was too old for stuffed animals eight years ago, Illeana finds a teddy bear on her bed when her birthday comes by.

Only now, she doesn’t get visits. Instead, _she_ goes to visit her mother. Part of her feels guilty for not going over there more.

Her mother hands her a cup of coffee. “You’re not staying, are you?” Illeana is standing by the fireplace, looking at pictures of the past. She wonders briefly if Godric has boxes filled with photographs somewhere.

“Not long,” Illeana answers. She feels strange being out in the real world again, during the day. She’s never regretted her choices, not once, but she never imagined she’d changed so much in only four years time. Being around vampires has given her a peace of mind she has never found in the human world. “He needs me.”

“You need him,” her mother corrects. Her daughter has changed; Illeana is now airing a tranquillity she’s never seen her possess before. It suits her. “Do you love him?” she asks, and watches her daughter in silence. She’s not sure how she feels about her daughter and that vampire. He’s known her since Illeana was four years old, but she’s only really known him four years. Or so she likes to think; she knows her daughter has a knack for getting people.

Illeana stares out in front of her for long moments. “I do,” she answers, and puts a hand to her chest. She finds her heart beating fast, rhythmically, and in chime with a greater truth: she will never love anyone else the way she loves Godric.

_The way his hands touch her hair. The way his mouth curves when he smiles. His fingertips on her cheek, caressing a path down her neck. His lips soft and cool against her skin, a hushed breath._

Illeana moans in her sleep and turns around. The movement shakes her from her comfortable slumber. She knows she’s still in his arms; she only has dreams like that when he’s close by. He’s looking at her when she opens her eyes.

“You were dreaming,” he says softly, and buries his gaze deep inside her green eyes.

“Did I wake you?” Illeana rubs her eyes wearily; Godric almost chuckles.

“No,” his voice remains low and soft. He gives her time to wake up. “What were you dreaming about?” he asks, curiosity taking the best of him. He loves watching her sleep; it’s like intruding in her innermost moments, and her allowing him.

Illeana blushes, and tries to remember if her parents had ever told her she talked in her sleep. She never thought she did. Maybe she was wrong. She’s not sure what to tell him, she’s never been particularly good at remembering her dreams.

She looks up at Godric from where she’s positioned in his arms, and hesitantly moves her fingertips towards his face. A glow sets out from them when they touch his pale skin, and she shows him just what she had been feeling in her dream.

Godric takes her hand, and places it over his lips. He smiles, and she can feel it. Everywhere.

“When we found you,” Godric says, placing her hand back on his cheek, but he keeps hold of it. “—and I told you you’d be safe, you did the same thing to me.”

“What?” Illeana startles, and pulls her hand back abruptly.

Godric doesn’t say a word; he gives her the time to compose herself and speak again.

Illeana doesn’t know what to think. Did she use her gift on Godric, just like she had used it on her parents’ killers? Was there some kind of instinct even then, telling her that she should fear him first, only trust him later?

“It’s called projecting,” she says. Or rather, she imagines people would call it projection if her ability had been a more common gift. Illeana sits up in the bed. “I think I did.” A frown colors her features. “But I don’t know why.”

“Self-preservation.” Godric sits up as well, leaning back on his arms. “It’s one of the most basic instincts.”

“So I made you keep me safe?” Illeana looks at him, worry in her eyes.

He doesn’t like seeing her like this; perhaps it would have been better not to say anything at all. But he’d kept his curiosity about her gift for himself for almost four years now. He believes they’ve grown close enough for him to know more about it.

He had no idea this was news to her.

“It’s more than that, Illeana.” Godric looks at her pointedly. Illeana casts down her eyes. “Princess, look at me.” He gently places his hand on her chin and forces her to look at him. Her green eyes are filled with tears. “You were four years old. You went through something terrible. What you did was only normal.”

“But I _made_ you—” Illeana insists, but Godric’s already shaking his head.

“You didn’t make me take you in,” he says, his eyes never leaving hers. Her eyes plead with him, he doesn’t know what for. “You didn’t make Isabel love you.” He’s softly nodding now, not exactly sure what he’s building up to. Illeana’s eyes grow big; perhaps she knows already.

“You didn’t make me love you.” The words come out unintentionally, but he means them.

They’re words she’s been waiting to hear her whole life.


	7. Blame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very strange intermission chapter that foreshadows some things that are going to be happening in later chapters - because I'm weird like that.

It was a confluence of circumstances.

The ‘accident’. The kidnapping. The suicide bombing.

After events took place there were those that tried to place the blame where it didn’t belong, or those that searched for the start of it all.

 

.

 

Eric blames the Fellowship of the Sun. They do nothing still but fan the flames of hate for his kind, or for those like Sookie that stand by their side willingly. He doesn’t like Bill, or the idea of this attachment he has to Sookie, but an attack on one of them was an attack on all of them.

He still doesn’t know what to make of Illeana, not after all he’s done for her, and everything she seems to mean to his Maker. He can’t wrap his head around her.

“For someone who loathes humans so much, you put a lot of trust in Miss Stackhouse, Mr Northman,” she tells him once she is safe again. She struck him immediately as something other, something very close to what Sookie Stackhouse is. Not human, but something else.

“You know nothing,” he sneers, his teeth tightly clenched together.

“You’d be surprised of what I do know.” She turns her back on him, and her low-cut dress reveals a tattoo right between her shoulder blades. He recognizes the ancient rune immediately.

It was truth.

“Stop talking about Godric like you know him.” He doesn’t meet her green eyes again, nor can he any longer see the deep crimson cut that was running over her eye only a few hours before. That’s healed now.

Illeana turns around and looks at him. “Stop talking like you don’t.”

 

.

 

Isabel blames humankind, for being what they are, dark and vile and repulsive creatures. She knows very well that she was once human as well, but she has never caused as much death in her vampire life than what she has seen caused in all her years.

She was still living in Romania during World War II, when Antonescu took power and cast the entire country in the dark glow of the Holocaust. She blames humans because it’s easy to, and she has seen what they are capable off.

“Isabel.” She hears Illeana’s voice from the other side of the room. How could she not have seen? How could she not have known? She failed Godric. She failed all of them.

“Ana. Leave me.” She wipes at her face, staining her hands blood-red with tears. Illeana moves into the bathroom for a few minutes, grabbing a wet towel. She sits down by Isabel’s side, and takes hold of one of her hands. She runs the towel over Isabel’s skin carefully, wiping away the blood.

Isabel runs through every conversation she ever had with Hugo, every fight, every plea, and every rejection. What possessed him to do this? What drove him to hurt Illeana in the process? What made him want to hurt _her_?

“Isabel.” Illeana’s voice does little to shake her from her thoughts. Isabel feels her hand on her skin seconds later. She knows Illeana can take away the pain if she wants to, but Isabel hopes she realises right now she needs the pain.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” Illeana whispers instead.

 

.

 

Illeana blames Hugo. Her gifts allows her to understand why he did it, why he betrayed all of them so gravely. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Isabel. In fact, he loved her unconditionally. But everyone has their limit. That’s true for vampires and humans alike.

She can’t bring herself to accept though, to even _want_ to understand, not even if she can read his heart’s desire still. Hugo betrayed her, he betrayed all of them. He hurt her, he hurt Godric. They all would have died if it hadn’t been for Eric, Sookie and Isabel.

In truth, Illeana blames herself. For not having seen any of it coming, for letting Godric and Isabel down. For letting all of them down.

“Godric.” Illeana falls onto her knees in front of him, burying her face in her hands. She’s failed him. She’s failed all of them. “Forgive me.”

“Stand up. Illeana.” Godric sits down on his hunches in front of her. Illeana doesn’t move a muscle; she can’t. He puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Look at me, my princess.”

 

.

 

Stan blames the Great Revelation. It was the biggest mistake they ever made, and he would gladly go back to how it was before: hiding, killing at will, and most importantly, getting away with it.

“Sheriff, please,” he pleads with Godric, but his superior’s eyes have never shown more fury. He’s never seen Godric like this before. “They were just humans.”

“Illeana is _just_ human,” Godric answers as calmly as ever. How he keeps his voice that steady is beyond Stan’s comprehension. “Do you believe you would get away with hurting her?”

The question strikes him like lightning. He sees Eric glancing at Illeana, standing in the doorway, and anger flares in his eyes. He doesn’t approve of her, and neither does Stan, but it’s clear to both men that Godric will not allow her to be touched.

It’s clear to all who Godric blames. 


	8. Lies

He never thought it possible to feel this much. Hugo never believed that love could feel this strong, this all-consuming. This addictive. He’s dead convinced that Isabel is the one for him, the one and only woman to ever give him the will – the desire – to keep fighting for their relationship. He belongs with her.

But everyone has their limit. It’s been eight years now, long wonderful years. But enough is enough. He knows that in physical age he’s already several years older than Isabel, and he doesn’t want that to go any further. He’s only now beginning to realise how much he’s changed his lifestyle to suit hers better. Maybe it’s time for them to be equals.

“Why can’t you do this for me?” Hugo asks again, one plea in a long succession of identical requests. Why can’t she turn him? Why not, when he’s so willing to stay by her side forever? Together for all eternity.

“Hugo, I love you,” Isabel answers, and places her hands lovingly on his face. She stays strong and doesn’t cry, but the tears in Hugo’s eyes break her un-beating heart. “But I will not turn you. I can’t.”

“OF COURSE you can!” Hugo bats Isabel’s hands out of the way violently, and goes to his knees in front of her. He tips his head and exposes his throat to her. “It’s easy. You’ve tasted my blood, Isabel. Turn me. _Please_.” His eyes plead with her further, and he prays that the urgency in his heart echoes through in his words.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Isabel rolls her eyes, and walks away, even though it takes her all her strength. She understands why he wants her to turn him, to be with her, forever. But Isabel knows that forever is a long time, and that death, in whatever disguise it comes, changes a person crucially.

Hugo’s shouting wakes up Illeana in the middle of the day. She knows that Isabel insists on Hugo carrying on with his normal routine, so the hour doesn’t strike her as strange. It’s Hugo’s feelings that get her every time. No matter how angry he gets, or how hard he shouts, every time, always, his love for Isabel stays strong.

“They’re fighting again,” Illeana says, because she knows Godric is awake as well. He wants to tell her that she should be grateful for not being able to hear it all, but then he figures she knows better than most what Hugo and Isabel are fighting about. Are fighting _for_.

He knows he doesn’t need to say anything in response, because it’s just a random observation, but Illeana’s eyes remain open and he knows that there’s something bothering her.

“She won’t turn him,” he says softly. Illeana doesn’t move from his arms, or removes her hand from his chest. It means that she knows, or at least realises on some level that Isabel might love Hugo, but something is holding her back. Perhaps it always will.

“Is that why you’ve only ever turned Eric?” Illeana asks suddenly, as if she’s intuitively tuned into his train of thought. She looks up at him. “Because the bond between a vampire and his Maker is something deeper than love?”

Her question takes him by surprise, mostly because her amount of insight can still strike him, and because she is absolutely right. The bond between a Maker and his Child was one of responsibility, of undying loyalty, friendship, and yes, ultimately love as well. But even more than that there is a bond that’s beyond words, beyond rational thought, beyond understanding. It can easily be called magic.

“Yes,” he answers, but he knows that only applies to him. She keeps looking at him, and he stares right back at her, his stare unrelenting, hers a curious interesting one. She wants to tell Godric that _they_ have a bond that’s beyond words, one that has been there since she was four years old when he took her from that awful place.

But she keeps such things to herself. For now.

.

“You told me a long time ago to be patient,” Hugo says one day. It comes out of the blue, because usually Hugo likes to pretend Isabel and him are the only ones that know about their fights. Right now though, he can’t keep quiet. He’s slowly reaching his limit. “Do you remember that?”

The television in the living room is on, but the voice of the newsreader hardly registers.

_In other news: a tragic car accident in Dallas claimed three lives today. Paramedics..._

“Yes. Of course,” Illeana answers, and sits down next to him on the sofa. “I meant that. She needs time.”

_Reverend Theodore Newlin, his wife..._

She lies.

It makes her into the biggest hypocrite in the world, but she can’t bring herself to tell Hugo the truth. They come so easily, the lies, and Illeana can’t help but wonder that all the lies she once discovered in others served the exact same purpose; to prevent her heart from breaking.

_... and their 18-month year old daughter Bethany, all pronounced dead on arrival at Baylor University Medical Centre..._

“Do you really think she’ll turn me?” There’s a hope in his voice that he only allows himself to have because he knows Illeana, and he trusts her. “When she’s ready?” He looks up at her, wide-eyed and desperate for affirmation.

_there were a total of seven other casualties as well in the freak accident, apparently caused when a freeway sign..._

“Of course.” She looks at him, her eyes sad, for him, for her. More lies roll off her tongue, because she knows Isabel won’t ever grant him his wish. “And if you don’t trust that, believe me when I tell you that she loves you _very_ much.” Not a lie, but not helpful either.

“I guess I can take your word for that,” he says, but lies as well. He cares for Illeana, but he knows she cares enough about him to tell him exactly what he wants to hear. He can’t be sure she’s lying, but it’s possible.

“You can,” she nods, and gets up from the sofa. She needs to get away, before all the wrong words escape her.

“Ana?” he says, and she turns towards his voice. “Thank you,” he smiles softly, unconvincingly, but for Illeana he’s willing to make the same effort as for Isabel.

A twisted tinge of guilt ripples through her.

When Illeana walks out of the room, leaving Hugo alone with his own thoughts, she meets Stan in the hallway. She looks at him carefully. He only gives her a hard stare back. “He’s pathetic,” Stan says, and crosses his arms over his chest; he’d been listening in on the conversation, mostly out of amusement. “Isabel will never turn him.”

“I know,” Illeana says softly, and stares at her feet.

Stan doesn’t understand, how she can continue to nourish this foolish fantasy that Hugo is and always will be the only one for Isabel. He’s seen her past lovers, all the same pathetic excuses for men.

“It’s called _hope_ , Stan,” Illeana explains. He snickers. “But don’t worry, it’s only a human emotion.”

He’ll give her this: even though she’s clearly learned her place in the nest, girl knows how and when to speak her mind.

Another few days pass, and tensions rise further between Hugo and Isabel. He begins to despair, but tries to hide it as best as he can, because after everything that’s happened, and even everything that hasn’t, he knows that Isabel loves him. He holds onto that thought feverishly.

“You know I love you, right?” he whispers in her ear, and he hears her huff a smile.

“Of course I do.” Isabel turns in his arms and looks at him. “You know I do.”

A few hours later, voices are heard across the entire house: Hugo and Isabel, fighting again. Godric can hear it. Illeana can feel it.

“She won’t allow someone else to do it, will she?” Illeana has been awake for hours, the lies she told Hugo days earlier constantly on her mind. She is a hypocrite, but could she really break Hugo’s heart?

“No,” is all Godric answers.

She knows his reasons, just like she suspects he understands her further silence. She’s known all this time what kind of hesitations are holding Isabel back. It’s not real love that she feels for Hugo, for her; what Godric feels for her. It’s not real.

Hugo’s and Illeana’s love is complete, well-rounded, irrational, because in the end that’s exactly what Illeana knows love to be. _Irrational_. But Isabel’s love, Godric’s; that was love with reservations. Love with an expiration date. It’s a hole they keep inside themselves before ever meeting a loved one, a place-holder because they know one day their loved one won’t be there, will perish and die, with or without them by their sides.

It’s conditional love, rather than the unconditional kind that humans feel. It’s perishable love, dying from the moment it starts. Because it has to. Illeana feels Hugo’s heart breaking because Isabel doesn’t seem to realise that there is one way out of that, one way to turn conditional into unconditional. And that’s turning Hugo. But Isabel will never do that. She lost understanding of that kind of love a long time ago.

“You’re not even considering it, are you?” she asks Isabel the next day.

It feels like all she’s been doing lately is ask questions she already knows the answer too. But she can’t help herself. She might understand emotions, but she can’t understand conditions. Is it that Isabel fears Hugo will become her equal, or does she simply not love him deeply enough?

If the bond between a vampire and his Maker truly goes beyond all rationality, maybe it’s the one thing Illeana will never be able to understand.

“This is not up for discussion, Ana,” Isabel answers, looking at her strongly. Isabel knows Illeana and Godric have been worried about her relationship with Hugo, but she won’t let herself be commanded. “I won’t allow it.”

“Can I at least ask you why?” Illeana feels her heart leap up in revolt, partly out of anger, partly out of sheer frustration. Were all vampires just essentially stubborn?

“Why is it important to you?”

“Because first of all, I care about Hugo.” She’s sure about that much. She cares too much for him to continue the lies, because sooner or later he will start seeing through them, and hold her deception against her. She can’t have that. “And what you’re doing to him isn’t fair. If you’re not going to turn him, the least you can do is tell him the truth.”

Yes, truth, the one and only thing she has ever asked of Isabel, of Godric. Truth, the one thing she can’t give Hugo; that’s Isabel’s responsibility.

“And second?” Isabel sighs. Illeana feels like she might as well be talking to a brick wall; Isabel isn’t even listening to her.

“I...” Illeana shakes her head. She knows what comes second, but she’d had no intention of continuing her statement. Unfortunately Isabel was far smarter than that.

“It’s Godric, isn’t it?” Isabel asks. Her dark-brown eyes keep Illeana pinned in place. Isabel has seen this coming for such a long time, but she suspects the thought only surfaces because Hugo and her have been fighting so much. “Do you want him to turn you?” Isabel’s heart would have skipped a beat if it had been capable of such a thing.

“I... _no_ ,” Illeana shakes her head, frowning. “I don’t know.” She turns away from Isabel, more confused than ever; these are things she’s never even admitted to herself. “It’s complicated.”

“Yes. It is,” Isabel answers calmly, but her feelings are everything but. To be honest, she doesn’t like the idea of Illeana turning any more than the idea of Hugo becoming one of them. They’re not natural, _vampires_ , how can she put Hugo or Illeana through that?

.

It’s confluence of circumstances. The ‘accident’. The fighting. The betrayal. Hugo reaches his limit. He realises that he’s changed his entire life, his routine, to be with Isabel. Yes, he loves her, adores her, worships her, but he can’t be with her when all he will do is age, and she will remain the same. He can’t see an easy way out, because he knows he’s too attached to Isabel to simply walk away.

That’s why he turns to the Fellowship of the Sun.

He thinks they’ll offer him a way out, a support group that he can depend on to pull him out this vicious circle of habits.

Instead, they ask him to betray Godric. Betray Illeana. Betray Isabel.

He does.

“There you are,” Illeana says when she finds Godric outside by the pool. The sun has just set behind the horizon. She walks over to him, entwines her fingers with his, and puts her head down on his shoulder.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he says, but keeps staring out in front of him. He’d watched her sleep for a while, but then decided it was best she rested well. “Not now that the house is so calm.”

Illeana smiles; he knows her too well. She hasn’t known this house to be empty in the four years she’s spent in it. It’s even more silent now, no voices, no emotions but hers and Godric’s. This is true peace.

“It’s hard to believe we’re actually alone.”

Isabel and Hugo had gone to the hotel Camilla to spend some quality time together. Illeana and Godric were alone in the house for the first time. It seemed like such an oddity, all this peace and quiet all of a sudden, no anger, or hunger, or loud voices. Just peace. Only peace.

“Why don’t you get something to eat?” He looks at her lovingly, and she gives him a soft smile back. She squeezes his hand lightly. Sometimes she forgets she actually needs food to stay alive; it’s so easy to forget about her own needs when she’s with Godric.

Illeana detangles her hand from Godric’s reluctantly, but she’s happy to find the same hesitation in him. It’s only a shadow of her reluctance, but it’s there. Despite her worries about Hugo, about Isabel, she’s never been happier then right here in this moment. Strange how things work out sometimes.

She should have known – from experience and the past – that things like that don’t always last.

She decides to get dressed properly first, so she’s up in the bedroom when she finds her heart in sudden distress. Something’s _off_ , but she doesn’t pin it down fast enough. “Godric,” she manages to breathe before a hand covers her mouth from behind, another strong arm around her torso, and she’s being dragged downstairs again.

She screams, but it’s lost in an entanglement of arms and emotions. Illeana reaches back for his face, struggling violently, but the only thing her fingers meet with is fabric; her attacker is wearing a mask. She despairs, because his hands are covered as well, and her voice just won’t do right now.

“Let me GO!” she screams when she feels her lips being freed, but another fear grabs her almost just as fast. A cold steel knife against her throat.

“Let her go.” Godric’s voice makes her heart leap up, but it’s a sigh of relief that doesn’t calm her down one bit. Three other men join them in the living room, all armed with stakes, guns, and God-knows what else to kill the both of them.

“One move and she’s dead, fangs,” her attacker says. Godric assesses the situation in a matter of seconds. There’s a knife to Illeana’s throat, and he can already smell blood; the bastard is cutting her. He can’t move, not without running the risk of Illeana dying. A cut like that, he’s not sure even his blood will bring her back.

“What do you want?” Godric asks. Illeana whimpers, a raspy steel pain cutting through the skin at her throat. She already knows she’s bleeding. She can’t think, she can’t move, she can’t use her ability. This is worse than that one time Stan had her in a stranglehold; he was just trying to make a point. This time, she knows she’ll die if Godric or her make the wrong move.

“We came here for you.”

“I’ll go willingly,” Godric says. His life doesn’t matter, not now. Illeana has her entire life ahead of her. He loves her enough to let her go like this. His life for hers. That doesn’t sound like a bad trade at all. “Just leave her unharmed,” he insists.

“Godric, no,” Illeana croaks.

“Hold out your hands,” one of the other men says, and Illeana can hear the rattling of silver chains. _No_ _no no_ not like this. She can’t lose him like this.

“You leave her unharmed,” Godric says, to make sure that they stay true to their word. Illeana can’t tell anymore at this point, her fear is all but consuming her.

“Scout’s honour, fangs,” the man answers, rattling the silver chains to taunt him further. Godric holds out his hands, and when the silver touches his bare skin, it sizzles. Illeana closes her eyes, and wills Godric pains away.

She fails.

Another chain is wrapped around his neck, and they shackle him by his ankles as well. Illeana feels tears well up in her eyes, and the pain that the knife causes tips her over the edge. Tears escape her eyes strongly when she sees Godric fall to his knees. He tries to hide his pain from her, if only to appear strong for her.

“Alright,” the man behind her says, and the other three lift Godric from the ground. The knife leaves her throat, and Illeana allows herself a breath. “Let’s haul your pretty ass in too,” he whispers in her ear.

“NO!” Illeana screams again, and struggles free from her attackers arms. She only manages to take a few steps before two strong arms encircle her again. “Godric!” she shouts, and sees how the three other men carry him out of the house. They lock eyes for a single second – defeat in his, anguish in hers – before he disappears from her sight altogether.

“Oh, I get it. You’re a feisty one, aren’t ya?” her attacker says.

Illeana elbows him in the ribs, and he releases her quickly, but she can’t make a run for it. He grabs her arm before she even manages to get her bearings, whirling her around, and hits her hard across the face.

The whole world spins around her. She raises a hand to her eye, and finds blood on her skin when she looks at it. Her knees buckle underneath her, and gravity pulls her towards the ground.

She passes out on the floor.

When she wakes up, she’s lost. She’s in a dark room. A cell.

Alone.


	9. Taken

Hugo knows what to expect. His whole weekend getaway with Isabel was to make sure Godric was alone in the house with Illeana. He knew that Illeana would never leave the house voluntarily, so he hadn’t even tried to convince her. It would have raised too many suspicions if he had insisted.

He’d told the Fellowship that Godric wouldn’t be alone, but it hadn’t seemed a problem to them. Something in him warned him not to put Illeana through the trauma of seeing Godric taken away from her; she had after all been through enough in her life. But the trauma of being separated from him would be nothing compared to him dying. Hugo’s heart hadn’t stopped racing since he made that phone call.

“Are you alright?” Isabel asks, and looks at Hugo. He seems uncomfortable and he’s been quiet the entire drive back to the house. She’s not used to him being this silent. Their weekend had gone great; there wasn’t even any fighting, or him pleading with her to turn him. Maybe they’d finally put that behind them.

“I'm fine,” Hugo answers, and clears his throat. He parks the car in their usual spot. Isabel gets out, and he only then allows himself to take a deep breath. This is where the real lies begin. He knows Godric will be gone from the house, but what he really dreads is finding Illeana, all alone. Could he look her in the eyes? Could he hide his feelings of guilt from her?

“Oh God,” Isabel utters breathlessly when she lays eyes on the door, the lock broken where it had been forced open. She rushes inside, Hugo following closely behind. The living room seems mostly intact, but there is evidence of a struggle. On the white carpet by the sofa, there’s a patch of blood, almost dried. “It’s Ana’s blood.” Isabel looks up at Hugo with fearful eyes.

“Ana?” Hugo feels like he’s been punched in the stomach when he hears Isabel speak the words.

“Ana!” he shouts, and before he knows it, he’s running upstairs to Godric’s bedroom. The bedside lamp lies broken on the floor. “Ana, are you here?” he shouts again, but the house goes dead silent the moment the sound of his voice dies out.

Isabel rushes in the room, his eyes only registering the movement when she’s standing right in front him.

“She’s not here,” Hugo says.

“Godric is gone as well.” Isabel looks around the room, the broken glass on the floor only alarming her further. Something terrible happened, Illeana was hurt, Godric and her were missing. Isabel is frozen in place. She doesn’t know what to do.

“You don’t suppose they’re just—” Hugo’s voice trails off. Of course not, he knows what happened to Godric. But taking Illeana was never part of the deal. Isabel looks at him strongly, and the fear in her eyes almost leaves him paralyzed. He’s never seen Isabel afraid before. “No. Of course not.” He shakes his head, and opens his arms. Isabel falls into his arms, and he holds her, meaning every loving gesture. He will never stop loving her.

 

.

 

“It had to have been the Fellowship,” is the first thing Stan says when he finds out about Godric’s disappearance. What could possibly take down Godric? “They’re the only ones with the manpower and resources to pull this off.”

There are several other vampires in the room that nod their heads; the Fellowship has been gathering followers for a long time, and support for their organization is strong. He never thought they’d actually go this far.

“We don’t have proof.” Isabel stands with her arms crossed. She seems off her usual game. He understands why, but he can’t condone her sudden feelings of sympathy. He has to admit he’d never seen this coming, especially when he found out Illeana had been taken as well. But he can’t bring himself to actually care.

“Who the fuck needs proof?” Stan looks at Isabel strongly. She stares back just as hard, but doesn’t say anything. The kidnapping of their sheriff could turn out to be a disastrous event for the nest. Godric has never named a possible successor. This could get ugly even before they have all the facts. “They have Godric. We can’t allow this.”

“And we can’t get this wrong either,” Isabel remarks. “We are already on the brink of a war with the Fellowship. We need to be sure.” Part of her wishes she could be as certain as Stan is, because then nothing could stop her from going into that church and kill everything in sight. But she’s always been the composed one. As Godric’s lieutenant she can’t afford to be uncalculated.

Stan goes off on his own for days after that. Isabel hopes he’s not planning anything reckless.

 

.

 

“What do you mean, _missing_?” Eric speaks clear words over the phone. Something in him panics at the clearly defined syllables Isabel utters, but he doesn’t allow it to touch the surface. He doesn’t allow himself to appear anything else but strong and composed.

“Godric is missing,” Isabel repeats carefully, and awaits Eric’s response. She’s panicking, but she’s lived long enough to keep it from showing. Hugo had seen it, her fear, but he’s the only one she could ever show it. “There’s evidence of a struggle, and blood.”

“Who?” Eric asks. He’s a man of few words; Isabel’s always appreciated that about him. But that’s about all she’s ever liked about him. If it wasn’t for the fact that Eric was Godric’s child, she’d prefer not knowing him at all. She’s often wondered how a creature as Eric could even be related to Godric. Sure, Eric had his codes, and his rules, but Godric was a better man.

“We don’t know.” Isabel purposely doesn’t tell him about Illeana; she remembers his previous hatred towards her all too well. Illeana was only a child then, but Isabel suspects that her presence now would only antagonize him further.

“Why tell me this now?” He knows that as sheriff of Area 5 he has no voice in Dallas, but he already plans on going down there. He doesn’t trust Isabel or Stan to find Godric.

“We will deal with it. But he is your Maker. You have a right to know.”

Sookie comes to mind all but immediately. She’s helped him in the past; there’s no reason she wouldn’t help again, given the right incentive. “There’s someone who might be able to help. A telepath.”

“Telepath?” Isabel questions the statement instantly, but she knows she really shouldn’t. Illeana is an empath, after all. Tears spring to her eyes thinking of Illeana, not knowing if she’s all right. Not knowing whether or not she’s even alive. Fear had gripped her heart the moment she had found her blood on the floor; it hadn’t let go since.

And what could possibly overpower Godric?

“She’ll be alright, you know,” Hugo whispers in her ear as he wraps his arms around her. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “She’s a strong young woman. You taught her well,” Hugo continues, and places a kiss on her shoulder.

Isabel opens her eyes again, and stares out in front of her. “If she’s even alive at all.”

“Don’t say that,” Hugo blurts out, and fear rips through him. He knows what the Fellowship has in store for Godric, but would they really go so far as to kill Illeana? “Don’t ever say that,” he repeats, because he needs to believe that he won’t be responsible for her death. “We’ll find her. Both of them.”

He means it. It’s not a lie. He’ll probably be discovered if they ever find Godric, but he refuses to believe that trying to find Illeana is a lost cause. She needs to be alive.

A few hours later, when he manages to get away from the house for a few hours, and after Isabel has told him that Eric was sending in a telepath, Hugo calls his contact at the Fellowship, _Gabe_. They meet in a local bar, as usual, where they know no vampire-sympathizers ever come.

“Taking Illeana wasn’t part of the deal,” Hugo tells him the moment he sits down. He doesn’t bother editing himself or keeping his voice down, even though Gabe is big enough to crush him. But he’s angry, because he knows he’s to blame, and he can’t erase the image of Gabe attacking Illeana from his mind.

“Orders are orders, sunshine,” Gabe sneers, hardly fazed by Hugo. He’s not the kind of guy that gets intimidated; it’s usually the other way around. “So don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“You said you only needed Godric,” Hugo says, pushing through on his earlier statement. He feels bad about betraying Godric, because he knows how much he means to Illeana. In truth, Hugo never believed they’d actually manage to capture him. “Illeana is innocent in this.” Unlike he is.

“Look here, son.” Gabe takes a step closer menacingly. “We could have taken you too, but you might still prove useful. Imagine what would happen if you stopped serving your purpose.”

Hugo swallows hard, and leans back. “They’re bringing in a mind reader from Louisiana,” he says, and regards Gabe carefully.

“I’ll be expecting your call then.” Gabe grabs his glass from the counter and slams back his drink in one gulp. The glass hits the wooden underground loudly, but that could be Hugo’s imagination. “Don’t disappoint us, Airs.”

 

.

 

Sarah Newlin wasn’t always anti-vampire. Once upon a time, a period in her life she tries to forget, she was a sympathizer. She fought for vampire rights almost as fervently as she opposes them now. Thank God she was shown the true path in time. Who knows where she might have ended up if God hadn’t shown her the way. She imagines somewhere similar to where her sister ended up.

She tries to shake the thought as the girl in front of her stirs on the ground. Steve said her name was Illeana Tyler. Sarah thinks she’s sort of beautiful, if you disregarded the thick crimson cut running over her eye socket. She knows it’s Gabe’s fault; that man was too hands-on. This girl doesn’t deserve that.

“Well, there you are.” Sarah smiles broadly when Illeana finally opens her eyes. She’d been waiting there for half an hour already. “I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna wake up at all.”

Last time Illeana woke up she’d already noticed she was in a cell, and that her captors had no intention of showing themselves except to bring her food. The blonde in front of her seems out of place. “I know you,” Illeana croaks, and leans up on her arms. She immediately raises a hand to her head, spinning out of control, throbbing painfully. The blow she took to the head probably concussed her. “You’re that preacher’s wife.”

“That’s right, precious.” Illeana knows she’s out of place now. They didn’t bring her here to make friends, or be treated kindly. No, they had a plan with Godric and her. “What’s your name?” Sarah asks, even though she knows the answer.

Illeana only stares at her, and shuffles backwards towards the wall, away from the blonde.

“Oh, you don’t have to be afraid of me.” Sarah waves a hand dismissively. “I'm not gonna hurt you.” _Sarah Newlin_ , Illeana thinks when she finally manages to place the woman’s face. So she’s at the Fellowship of the Sun church. That definitely doesn’t bode well for her.

“You had people come into our house and kidnap us,” Illeana speaks through gritted teeth, tears threatening her eyes, her voice trembling. Her head is pounding heavily, and the room is still turning about her. “You chained Godric. I was knocked out cold. Sorry if I don’t take kindly to your sudden hospitality.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t be here.” Sarah looks around, distracted. Illeana tries to read Sarah’s emotions, but her head hurts too much. She squeezes her eyes shut tightly when a wave of dizziness hits her, accompanied by a deeply nauseating feeling. Definitely concussed. “That was not the deal,” Sarah continues, mostly talking to herself, “But try gettin’ him to listen to a word I tell him.”

“Where’s Godric?” Illeana asks, breathing in deeply through her nose, to force herself to sound somewhat more composed than she’s feeling.

“He’s down here too,” Sarah answers. Illeana isn’t looking too hot right now; she’d tried cleaning up her wound as best as she could, but she probably needs stitches. Or a doctor. But she knows her husband won’t have any of that. “Here,” Sarah says, and gets up from the crate she’s sitting on to hand Illeana a bottle of water.

Illeana doesn’t take it.

“What are you planning to do with him?” she asks instead.

“He’s here to meet the sun, love.” Sarah sits back down, and crosses her legs. This is a point where she and Steve agree completely. The vampire will die.

“You’re going to kill him?” Illeana blurts out before even thinking up the words. She tries to think about what Godric’s death would mean to the vampire community, but all she can really conjure up is some semblance of a world without him. A lesser world. One she doesn’t care to know. “Why? What has he ever done to any of you?” Ileana asks defensively. A wave of pain cuts through her skull.

“The lord Jesus demands it.” The reverie in Sarah’s voice scares Illeana more than anything. She’s convinced of the statement she’s just made; for Sarah Newlin that is the deepest truth there is. “We need to cleanse this earth from his kind. He is a demon.”

“People like you make me sick,” Illeana speaks her mind. Something tells her that the reverend’s wife will do little to harm her physically. From what she can tell about Sarah, she seems sincere enough, and harmless enough, but it’s the conviction seeded in every part of her that Illeana fears. It’s people like this that threaten her world.

“They messed you right up, didn’t they, princess?” Sarah looks at her sympathetically, but Illeana winces at the pet name she chooses to use. Only Godric gets to call her that. “But don’t you worry, we’ll make you see the light in time. You’ll see his true nature.” Illeana doubts that sincerely, because she is dead convinced that she saw Godric’s true nature twenty years ago already.

“I can see people’s true nature,” Illeana retorts. Deep down she knows she’ll never make Sarah see reason, or at least her version of it, but she still tries. Who knows, it would be fairly poetic if she manages to make Sarah doubt her own husband’s actions. “He saved my life. He gave me a home. Twice.” And that’s more than any human could say. “All you have is religious fanaticism and a hate for things you don’t understand.”

“My little sister disappeared.” Sarah’s eyes turn darker thinking back on it. “That was their fault.” If her sister hadn’t hung out with vampires she would still be by her side. Godric has to die, to set an example. They won’t keep getting away with these kinds of things.

“But not Godric’s!” Illeana shouts, and shakes her head, “He—” Illeana breathes, but the room is spinning again, out of control this time. She swallows and buries her face in her hands, and whimpers when the pain only gets worse. She’s hurt badly.

“Oh dear, Gabe took a right good swing at you, didn’t he?” Sarah sympathizes with the girl. Only twenty-four but brainwashed to the core. She should really have Gabe’s cahooneys for wounding her so badly, or at least make sure she sees a doctor. It’ll be a challenge to make Illeana see truth, but it has to be done.

“Sarah!” Steve Newlin barges into the dark room. Illeana weeps in complaint, his loud voice only making her head pound harder. “What in God’s name are you doing down here?” he asks, and looks from his wife to Illeana, who is hugging her knees close to her body now. She looks downright pathetic, but he fails to make himself give a damn.

“Steve, she’s hurt,” Sarah says, and moves towards her husband. She can’t believe he’s actually going to be angry with her for showing compassion, but they’ve been disagreeing on more than a few things lately. Treating this girl like garbage won’t make her take kindly to them. Why can’t Steve see that?

“She is a fang banging whore.”

Illeana notices how he too sounds utterly convinced of himself.

Sarah is surprised at the words coming from her husband’s mouth.

“Aren’t you, Ana?” Steve Newlin calls over to Illeana, who grants him a scowl in return.

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Illeana only just manages to utter. Steve Newlin isn’t just a religious fanatic, he’s an idiot too. Godric has never touched her like that, nor has any vampire. The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to her, but Reverend Newlin definitely needs a vocabulary lesson some time. Her head tips back beyond her control, connecting with the cold concrete wall behind her. She can feel herself moving back into unconsciousness.

“She’s a sinner, Sarah.” Steve doesn’t even bother with Illeana. She’s a despicable and evil human being that doesn’t deserve the time of day. Or night. “And she must be rightly punished.”

“What?” Sarah’s eyes go wide at her husband’s words. That was never part of the agreement; Illeana’s not even supposed to be here. “You’re not seriously saying you’re gonna—” she can’t bring herself to say it. A vampire was one thing, but this, this is not God’s will.

“She’ll burn too, Sarah,” Steve confirms her worst fears. “She’ll fry right alongside Godric.”


	10. Burn

Eric is seething with anger. He can’t believe Isabel, or Stan, _clowns_ , only fighting among themselves without giving a damn about Godric. For him it’s not about some political agenda, or a way to work himself up in the ranks. This is about saving someone that he loves. Godric is the only one he will ever admit to loving.

“We invited you as a courtesy.” Isabel takes a few steps towards him. She seems off her usual game, but that doesn’t push aside her absolute loyalty to Godric. “This is not your territory. You have no voice here.” No, he doesn’t, but none of that means he will stand by idly and do nothing. Godric is his Maker. His father, brother, and his son. He will not abandon him.

“Godric has protected you, made you rich and all you do is spitting like infants!” Eric sneers.

Isabel knows she and Stan are disagreeing more than usual, but this is an unusual situation to say the least. No one ever thought a thing like this could happen. Not to Godric.

“I’ll infiltrate the Fellowship of the Sun,” Sookie says confidently. She’s never liked Eric, nor does she like the idea of him using her every time he needs someone’s mind read, but she’s confident that she can help in this situation. Besides, these people just tried to have her killed. If she can help prove that the Fellowship was behind it, that was one less thing to worry about.

Isabel likes Sookie Stackhouse. She reminds her so much of Ana, even though it’s clear that Sookie is far less acquainted with the way the vampire world deals with its affairs. She still speaks her mind no matter what, despite being a reader. She could stand to learn from Illeana.

“Absolutely not,” Bill Compton complains.

Isabel finds it a brave venture Sookie means to undertake. She decides there that she’ll help Sookie out by asking Hugo to join her; she reckons he’ll take the opportunity with both hands. He cares about Illeana almost as much as she does.

“Let her speak,” Eric says almost immediately.

Isabel regards them with a curious interest; it’s remarkable how Bill Compton and Eric have positioned themselves around Sookie, protecting her. Eric’s interest in her is tangible. Bill’s love for her goes without question. Yet another thing Ana and her seem to have in common.

“If this leads us to Godric we’ll do it,” Eric concludes. The hostility between Bill and Eric is tangible as well. “The decision is made.”

A few hours later, far from Eric’s prying eyes and ears, Isabel takes Hugo to see Sookie and Bill. She had noticed Bill’s reluctance to send Sookie into the church without protection, and Hugo was all too willing to help her out, as expected. Isabel thinks it’s sweet of him. If anything Sookie will attract far less suspicion with a man by her side.

Sookie instantly likes Hugo; his love for Isabel shows on his face, in his thoughts, and in his words.

“There is another matter of urgency I wish to discuss,” Isabel says, and looks down in shame. She had once vowed to keep Illeana safe. Leaving it up to human hands now doesn’t seem fair to the young girl who has given so much of herself. “Godric wasn’t the only one taken. A human, Ana, was taken as well.”

“How come Eric doesn’t know about this?” Bill is cautious. There must be a good reason why they kept this information from Eric. It’s true that his sheriff has no power here, but Bill knows that won’t stop Eric from finding Godric. His attachment to his Maker runs far deeper than any he has seen before.

“Godric lays no claim to Ana. He regards her as an equal.”

The words ring true and loud in Sookie’s ears. It’s strange, but she feels herself relating to this woman she’s only just learned about. She doesn’t know the nature of her relationship with Godric, but she suspects there’s love there.

“I suspect Eric won’t take kindly to her.”

“You care about her,” Sookie says. She doesn’t need to read anyone’s mind to know that.

“We both do,” Hugo answers, and takes hold of Isabel’s hand. “She means a lot to the entire nest.” His heart lurches, reminding himself that it was his doing that got them into this situation in the first place. “If anything happens to her—” He shakes his head.

“If they’ve got her I’ll hear it,” Sookie assures them.

 

.

 

She’s burning.

Godric is near, but her vision is hazy with smoke, orange flames rising underneath her feet. “Princess,” Godric’s voice reaches her from afar, but she feels his breath mingling with hers. She shakes her head, and brings his face in focus; he looks tortured. “Forgive me,” he says softly.

She looks around in confusion, at the faces around her. Steve Newlin is looking up at her, a big smug smile plastered all over his face. Sarah Newlin hangs on his arm, her eyes dark, and, lustful? She’s enjoying watching them burn.

Something licks her skin, white-hot steel and ice-cold at the same time. The pain doesn’t register for another few minutes.

Her feet. They’re burning.

Her breathing deepens, stunted gasps of air as her heart rate picks up speed. She’s not tied to him, not like he’s tied to the wooden cross. She looks at Godric, an agonized painful expression on his face. “Godric?” she breathes, frowning. It’s only then that she looks towards the horizon. The sun is coming up slowly, casting the day over the lawn outside of the church. Everyone around is smiling, cheering.

She shakes her head, disapproving.

“No,” she whispers to herself, but the crowd breaks out in loud laughter. “NO!” she screams at all of them, and turns around towards Godric again. His eyes speak of no fear whatsoever. She’s standing on the raised wooden platform with him, but they didn’t tie her up. Something’s not right.

“It won’t take long, princess,” Godric says softly, his voice echoing. _Echoing_.

The sun rises higher in the sky, and Godric closes his eyes. She wants to speak, but can’t when she sees smoke rising from Godric’s skin. He’s burning too. A hot blaze sets off from his chest, his heart, _her_ heart at the same time. He disappears in front of her eyes, in a cloud of blue ash.

“GODRIC!” Illeana reaches out for him, but wakes up in the same room she’s been in for the past four days. Her heart is drumming in her ears, loudly, and her breathing is labored. She cringes into a ball on the floor, hugging her knees close. A loud sob escapes her and tears touch her eyes again. She’s been crying for the past few days, because of the pain, because of the future she knows is coming.

They will make her burn. But something in her – it’s only a faint flicker, but it’s there – is glad she gets to die with Godric. A world without him doesn’t seem worthy of her attention.

“My prince.” Illeana closes her eyes again, and releases a shaky breath.

“Princess,” Godric whispers in answer, but he knows Illeana can’t hear it. He has little strength left to fight, the silver chains are cutting into his skin and push more of the poison in his veins. It’s been too long since he’s fed as well. Even if he managed to somehow escape, he would take long to heal. His blood would do little to help Illeana now.

“Let me go!” Godric hears someone scream through the entire basement level. It’s a woman’s high-pitched scream, and she’s being dragged down the stairs violently. There’s another human man with her, also being imprisoned.

There have only been two other times he’s felt this powerless. Both times Illeana’s life had been in danger.

“Godric!” the woman calls out his name. If he called out to her, she probably wouldn’t hear him. “Godric, can you hear me? Isabel and Eric send us. Godric!”

Godric closes his eyes; Isabel and Eric should never have send humans after him; that was putting them in unnecessary danger. All that mattered before was saving Illeana; now he has to worry about these two as well.

 

.

 

It’s hours later when Eric and Isabel are standing outside the Fellowship of the Sun church, watching, waiting for any sign of Sookie or Hugo. Eric finds it hard to believe that any of these children could have overpowered Godric; he knows there is hardly anything in this world that could.

“Who’s Ana?” he asks, right after having the most interesting conversation with Isabel. She doesn’t love her Hugo the way Bill seems to love Sookie. Human emotions, they confuse him. He doesn’t nor has he ever felt the need to maintain any sort of human relationship, other than culinary that is. It seems like a waste of time; maintaining a bond with a world they no longer belong to. They’re not human.

Isabel looks at him strongly.

“You didn’t think I’d find out?” he raises a disinterested eyebrow. Isabel would do well not to underestimate him further.

“She was with Godric when he was taken.” Isabel keeps her voice calm, and looks away from Eric. She can feel his eyes on her for long moments, scrutinizing her expression meticulously. She had expected this topic to come up sooner or later, and she feels grateful Illeana isn’t around to hear it.

“Why’s that?” His eyes narrow. Godric has never kept a human, or called one his own. Something in him rebels against the mere idea.

Isabel looks back at him defiantly, arms crossed over her chest. “She is always by his side.”

“What is Godric’s attachment to her?” It’s a hard thing to imagine, his Maker with a human woman. What sort of relationship do they have? Just thinking of Godric with a human the way Bill was with Sookie makes him sick to his stomach.

“He doesn’t need to justify his decisions to you.” Isabel takes a step closer. She imagines that if Eric were to ever meet Illeana, at first he would indeed loathe her for being human, but he would see the attraction eventually. That’s how everyone approached Illeana. “If you wish to know of his attachment, you can ask him. But she can be trusted.”

Eric doubts that sincerely.

 

.

 

Sookie is scared. She’s been scared so many times before in her life, but since meeting Bill she’s always known that somehow things would eventually be alright again. Where is Bill now? He must have felt her anxiety, horror, pain. And now Steve Newlin says he knows her brother? What does Jason have to do with this?

Steve and his trusty disciple had stormed out of there like they were on some kind of mission. Where was Jason anyway? Sookie suddenly realises that she hasn’t talked to her brother for days on end. It’s not a completely unusual occurrence, but right now she’d prefer to know exactly where he’s hanging about.

Before she has more time to think about any of it, the Reverend storms back in, Gabe following in his tracks, dragging a young girl by the arm behind him. “Is this who you came looking for?” Steve asks, clearly bothered by something much more serious than just being spied on. “Your little fang banger friend?” Gabe leaves her lying on the floor.

“Oh my God.” Sookie’s eyes go wide. Illeana has a deep wound running over her eye, coagulated blood running all the way down her neck, and it looks like she was just thrown in some hole for the days she was missing, without anyone taking care of her.

“What did you do to her?” Hugo’s right next to her, clutching the slim metal bars separating the rooms. Hugo’s heart skips several beats, watching Illeana carefully for any sign of life.

“We branded her like the whore she is,” Gabe answers in a smirk. Sookie’s upper lip curls up in disgust. She wishes she could show this asshole a real piece of her mind. “Pity there won’t be time for scarring though.”

“You’re not gonna—” Sookie’s voice trails off. They weren’t seriously saying what she thought they were? That’s atrocious, and the fact that they were doing it all in the name of God made it all the more appalling.

Steve Newlin smiles a broad smile. “Oh, she’ll burn, right alongside her vampire lover.”

“This wasn’t part of the deal!” Hugo shouts, Illeana twisting painfully on the floor at the sound of his voice. She’s alive, _thank God_. The thought, however, hardly makes him feel better. He feels powerless, even more than usual. This was never the agreement, they only wanted Godric. Illeana doesn’t deserve this. She’s been through enough.

“It was you?” Sookie shakes her head, and looks at Hugo, frowning. Hugo was the traitor? How? _Why_? She can tell he loves Isabel, so why betray her? Why betray Illeana when he claims to care for her so deeply?

Hugo ignores Sookie. “You can’t do this,” he says, looking up at Steve Newlin. He can’t think of anything else but Illeana right in front of him on the floor. He hates himself for putting her through this.

“Y’all are insane!” Sookie exclaims, and shakes the door violently. _Men of God her ass_. They’re the ones that deserve to burn. “She needs a hospital.”

“She needs to be cleansed from her sins through fire,” Steve reiterates. He’s got better things to do then explain himself to Sookie Stackhouse. Like go deal with her brother for example, and then prepare for the lock-in and a nice bonfire in the morning. “Put her in with them. Maybe she’ll finally learn who her real friends are.”

Gabe picks Illeana up from the ground like she’s a ragdoll, opens the cell door with one hand, and throws her inside. Sookie stares after him angrily, fury burning in her veins. It’s times like these that she wishes she was stronger, bigger, and could stand up to men like Gabe more easily.

Hugo rushes to Illeana’s side, and gathers her in his arms. “Ana.” He’s careful not to shake her too much, but her eyes are already closed again. She whimpers. “Oh my God. What have I done?” tears fill up his eyes. Suddenly every decision he’s ever made seems so futile, every fight with Isabel, every feeling of betrayal he had once felt himself. It pales next to the prospect of Illeana dying because of something he did.

“You shoulda thought of that before selling her out.” Sookie sits down by his side with a bottle of water. She wets a paper towel and runs it over Illeana’s forehead. Illeana cringes away from it, even though the cold tissue feels good against her skin. She doesn’t know where she is anymore.

“No, this was never supposed to happen.” He shakes his head, holding Illeana’s head still so that Sookie can tend to her properly. “They told me they only needed Godric.”

“Hugo?” Illeana frowns, and carefully opens her eyes. For the first time in seven days, Illeana feels safe again, surrounded by a familiar face. She takes Hugo’s hand in hers and pushes it back against her cheek. He’s here to keep her safe. She’s sure of it.

“I'm here, Ana.” He touches her cheek softly with his other hand, pushing strands of sweaty hair from her face. “I'm right here.” He doesn’t allow himself to feel his own sorrow; he doesn’t deserve it. He landed her there, he landed himself there, and Sookie. And for what? Because he loved Isabel too much.

Sookie really wants to give Hugo a piece of her mind as well, but when she sees the way Illeana reacts to him, she can’t bring herself to protest. Taking away any form of comfort from her now would be truly cruel. She tries to read her mind, mostly out of curiosity, but she only finds scattered words and what she suspects are nightmares.

“Ana, Isabel and Eric send us,” Sookie says softly. “Is Godric here?”

“He’s here,” Illeana chokes out, and opens her eyes with great difficulty. The room has stopped spinning, but her vision is almost entirely blurred. She thinks the woman speaking to her is blonde, but she’s not sure. Her head stopped pounding some time ago, but the dullness that replaced the pain is probably a sign of something much more severe. “Somewhere. He’s in pain. There’s so much hate here.”

“Ana?” Hugo asks, but Illeana has passed out again.

“We’re running outta time,” Sookie says, and puts a hand to Illeana’s forehead.

She’s burning again. 


	11. Safe Again

Illeana’s heart is breaking. Not only is she facing death – Godric’s death and her own – but now she finds out that a man she trusts, loves even, has betrayed the world she’s taken refuge in. A world that has kept her safe, that has kept her hidden. A world that’s peaceful and beautiful no matter what people like Sarah and Steve Newlin say about it.

And now that’s all threatening to fall apart, to be taken away from her just like her parents in the past. It doesn’t seem fair, but Illeana realises all too well she shouldn’t be thinking in those terms. “Why did you do it, Hugo?” she asks.

Her head is in Hugo’s lap, his hand brushing through her hair. Despite everything she’s just found out his presence is comforting. She’s going to die, his fault, _yes_ , but she doesn’t want to be alone. “Why did you betray us?”

She may be hurt, but she can tell Hugo’s hurting too. It’s comforting to know that at least part of him regrets his decision. She knows how to describe it now, the hole in her chest. It’s a wish for an absence of something, of feeling, of her heart altogether. Because accepting it is there, this cavernous kind of grief she first felt twenty years ago, might just break her in half.

“I'm sorry, kiddo,” Hugo says, not even looking down at Illeana. He tells himself she wouldn’t understand if he explains his reasons, but he knows that Illeana has always understood more than most. “I'm not as strong as you. I don’t have the same faith in them as you do.” But perhaps he only tells her that now to save Illeana the heartbreak he’s suffering.

Sookie sits in another corner of the room, regarding Illeana and Hugo curiously. It’s still so clear that Hugo cares for her; he’s started doubting his every action.

“It’s not about faith, Hugo.” Illeana turns her head and looks up at Hugo. “It’s about knowing that Godric loves me.” Hugo can’t look at her. “I lied to you, I did. And I hate that I did.” Tears touch her eyes. This is where the lies had gotten her. “But I meant it when I said that Isabel loves you. _Deeply_.”

“I can’t do it anymore, Ana.” Hugo sighs, and finally looks down at her—her green eyes are sadder than ever; it’s breaking his already-beaten heart all over again. “I don’t recognise myself anymore. I gave her everything.”

Hugo exchanges a careful look with Sookie when Illeana doesn’t answer. She feels like she should say something to Illeana, or Hugo, but she feels more powerless than ever. Where’s Bill? Where’s _Eric_? Where are the vampires that told her no harm would come to her while she infiltrated this place? It’s been two days already, the lock-in was today. Godric was going to die.

Were they all going to die?

Illeana has just closed her eyes again when Gabe storms into the room.

_In the next room, Godric fights against his restraints violently. He can hear Gabe’s heart beating, a beat he still recognises all too well._

Hugo slides Illeana from his lap carefully, and stands up. “Gabe, listen. Ana isn’t a part of this,” he says. “Can’t you say that she was in on it with me or something?”

It’s only then that he notices Gabe has a black eye and a nosebleed.

“You can’t—” Hugo starts, but Gabe stays silent. He opens the door to the cell. “Come on, Gabe. You can’t kill her.”

_“Illeana,” Godric breathes. He struggles harder, the silver chains burning through his skin, forcing the substance deeper into his veins. It burns, but he won’t let Illeana get hurt again._

“ _Hugo_ ,” Illeana whispers, and pulls herself up on her arms. She knows there’s a reason Gabe isn’t saying anything. There’s a raging fire of anger in him, and a subconscious part of her picks up on Godric’s distress.

Gabe grabs Hugo by his collar and throws him into the wall. “You don’t tell me what to do you fang banging _sack of shit_!” He hits Hugo in the face hard and knocks him unconscious. “You don’t fucking look at me!”

“Stop it!” Sookie shouts, and jumps on Gabe’s back. Illeana’s head spins again, she closes her eyes, but hears Sookie screaming and thinks the better of it. She has to find some way to help the other woman.

_His powerlessness hits him like a tidal wave. Here he is, a two thousand year old vampire, and he can’t protect the woman he promised he’d keep safe. The woman he loves._

“You and your moron brother think that you can make an asshole outta me?!” Gabe asks, and grabs Sookie’s face in one of his hands. “That’s what you think, hu?”

“Get your filthy hands off me!” Sookie struggles to get him off her, but he throws her down on the floor. Illeana can feel what he’s planning, that dark vile spot inside his heart is pulsating and breaking free. She drags herself over the floor towards Sookie—everything hurts.

_It’s no use, he’s not strong enough to break free. Not anymore._

“What your own kind aren’t good enough for ya, hu?” Gabe doesn’t notice Illeana moving; he’s completely focused on Sookie. “How about I show you what you were missing?” He turns her around on the floor, tearing her dress in the process. Sookie screams and tries to get away from Gabe. He doesn’t let her.

Illeana groans, stretching out her arm. She reaches her hand under one of the legs of Gabe’s pants, looking for his skin. It takes her all her strength, but it’s all she can think of doing. “Leave... her... _alone_ ,” Illeana breathes helplessly, digging her nails into Gabe’s skin, giving every bit of life she has left to stop him from hurting Sookie.

A whine escapes from deep in her chest.

Gabe stands paralyzed in his stupor for countless of seconds, until Illeana loses her grip, her head connecting with the cold concrete floor in a thump. Her brain feels like it’s swimming in her skull, her ears wheezing with sounds that aren’t there. Gabe shakes his head, and looks down at Illeana.

“Fucking witch,” he spits, and kicks her in the stomach hard.

Something inside Illeana snaps.

She gives into it.

She gives up.

_Godric growls loudly, and puts in one final effort. He goes to his knees from exhaustion. It’s no use._

“You really _don’t_ want to be doing that,” a voice sounds from the open basement door. Gabe looks towards the door and sees a woman standing there, quickly joined by a tall blonde man. The man moves around the rest of the basement with remarkable speed. _Vampires_.

Isabel’s hand is around Gabe’s neck before he can move a muscle. “Please,” Gabe chokes, but Isabel almost snickers. She snaps his neck effortlessly.

“Ana.” Isabel goes to her knees next to Illeana and raises her up from the ground to rest on her knees. She puts a hand to her forehead. Illeana feels too warm.

“How is she?” Godric’s voice sounds from behind her suddenly. Eric and Godric are standing behind her now, Godric’s wounds healing slowly. He’ll require blood to make him heal completely; he’s been held for too long. But he’s not thinking about himself; he’s ceased doing that a long time ago.

“She’s dying,” Isabel despairs when she sees Illeana’s eyes rolling back in her head; she’s having a seizure. Isabel doesn’t even pause to act; without thinking she bites down in her wrist, and let’s some drops of her blood drip into Illeana’s mouth.

Illeana trashes on the floor, and coughs, droplets of blood staining the grey concrete floor.

Blue lights start flashing, the alarms going off in the building.

“Save the humans,” Godric tells Eric.

Sookie stares at Eric with big eyes: she fears for Illeana’s life, she fears for her own life. Eric looks at his Maker in confusion. He feels a knot forming in his gut when he sees all that Godric has eyes for is the girl on the floor, drinking Isabel’s blood.

“Go on,” Godric adds. “And spill no blood on your way out.”

Eric wants to protest, but next thing he knows Sookie is by his side, and Godric is kneeling down by Ana’s side. He breathes in deeply, putting his anger aside for the time being, and walks out the room with Sookie right behind him.

“Ana, you have to—” Isabel says, and presses her wrist up against Illeana’s lips. She’s barely conscious, but her tongue darts out and licks Isabel’s skin. Godric takes Illeana in his arms, Isabel’s arm outstretched now. “You have to drink my blood. It will help,” Isabel insists.

And so Illeana drinks. It’s the first time she drinks a vampire’s blood, but from the moment Isabel’s blood touches her tongue, Illeana feels something inside her reawaken, a flame that’s rekindled. The blood is warm and strengthens her almost immediately. The healing takes longer, works slower, but it’s almost like she can feel the flame travelling through her veins.

It feels warm.

It feels safe.

“Princess, everything is alright,” Godric says, and when she opens her eyes she can see him clearly again for the first time in a week. She takes hold of his hand, and intertwines her fingers with his, to affirm that he’s there, to touch him, to feel close to him. “You’re safe again.”

Just like so many years ago – albeit in somewhat different circumstances – she believes him wholly, fully, completely. She feels his caring for her in her healing heart. And the only thing she can think of doing, a human reflex, is burst out into tears. Tears of joy. 


	12. Forget

People often say that home is where the heart is. Illeana knows that’s only partially true. Her home is where Godric is, and Isabel, and her mother. Her home is where she feels safe. When she arrives back at the house it feels foreign at first.

She knows that there was a bloodstain on the carpet, but it’s been cleaned.

She knows the lamp by the bed had been broken, but it’s been replaced.

It’s as if none of it had happened.

Perhaps it’s for the best. Because despite of the missing pieces there’s a lingering nag at the back of her mind. The whole house feels like it’s moving around her and she’s standing still. And even though she feels stronger, more lucid and invigorated with Isabel’s blood coursing through her veins, she’s never felt sadder.

She lost a friend today. In a way, she lost a parent. Again.

She wants to blame Hugo. Her gift allows her to understand why he did it, why he betrayed all of them with such apparent ease, but for the first time in her life she wish she didn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Isabel. In fact, he loved her unconditionally. But everyone has their limit.

Illeana wonders what hers is.

She wonders if she’ll ever have to face it.

She can’t bring herself to accept Hugo’s betrayal. Isabel tries to put on the facade of understanding, but deep down Illeana knows that her heart is breaking. Hugo betrayed her, he betrayed all of them. He hurt her, and he hurt Godric.

In truth, despite having gone through a horrible ordeal down in that basement, Illeana blames herself. She should have known, she should have seen it coming. She should never have lied to Hugo in the first place. Her lies did this, giving Hugo hope where there was none. She let Godric down. She let Isabel down.

“Godric,” she breathes when she feels his presence behind her in the room. She falls to her knees in front of him, burying her face in her hands. She’s failed him. She’s failed all of them. “Forgive me.” Tears touch her eyes again, all of her emotions heightened because of Isabel’s blood.

“Stand up, Illeana.” Godric sits down on his hunches in front of her. Illeana doesn’t move a muscle. It breaks his heart to see her like this, stronger but more fragile at the same time. He should never have allowed her this close to them; he forced this on her. Godric puts a hand on her shoulder. “Look at me, my princess.”

“I don’t deserve this.” Illeana shakes her head, only then looking up at him through tear-shot eyes. “I should have known what he was thinking.” She should have known Godric would forgive her, or not blame her to begin with. She could have known he’d find a way to blame himself. They were exactly the same in that respect. “What use am I if I can’t even—” she stops speaking when she feels Godric’s hand on her cheek.

The feeling overwhelms her. It’s almost as if for the first time he _really_ touches her, and tries to reach beneath the surface of her like she does with him just by looking. “It is not your job to protect us, love.” He looks deep into her eyes. “That is mine.”

“You would have been safe if it hadn’t been for me.” He could have killed them all in a matter of seconds if he hadn’t been preoccupied with saving her life. Part of her wants to feel grateful, wants to think of the beauty in the mere gesture, but she can’t. Not with this weight on her shoulders.

“You are not my underling in this nest, Illeana, despite what some of the others think. You are my equal.” _You are my love_. Perhaps once upon a time he could have admitted that to her in so many words. But he’s changed. He doesn’t view humans like that anymore, like livestock, like property. Treating her like that, even though she might want to be called his, would be betraying what they had together.

Illeana understands that. Painfully so.

“Get cleaned up,” Godric says, and wipes away a stray tear. “Our guests will be arriving soon, and this,” –he points at her clothing, torn and bloody– “simply will not do.”

His joke has the intended effect: Illeana smiles softly, and gets up from the ground.

 

.

 

She looks different now. Back in that basement she was a pathetic heap of blood and limbs, just a fragile little human. He hadn’t understood why Godric was so determined to save her life, nor does he now know what to make of Ana. She’s healed because of Isabel’s blood, and she’s fairly beautiful. For a human that is.

She’s putting up her hair in a curly bun when he enters the room, and he studies her carefully. “Eric, I presume?” she speaks suddenly, her back still turned to him, but she clearly knows he’s there. It’s quite remarkable, especially for a human.

“ _Ana_ ,” he speaks her name in return, even though it takes him everything to stay calm. He can’t wrap his head around her. Neither Isabel nor Godric treat her like the other humans in the nest, and he’s even noticed that Stan strategically avoids her when he can.

“For someone who loathes humans so much, you put a lot of trust in Miss Stackhouse, Mr Northman,” she says, studying her hair in the mirror. She’s amused by Eric’s confusion, at the same time fascinated that he’s trying to figure her out. His dislike of her is tangible, but his love for Godric doesn’t allow it to surface.

“You know nothing,” he sneers, his jaw clenched tight. She strikes him as something different entirely, something very close to what Sookie is. Not human, but something else.

“You’d be surprised of what I do know.” She gets up from her chair, and her low-cut dress reveals a tattoo right between her shoulder blades. He recognizes the ancient rune immediately.

 _Truth_.

“Stop talking about Godric like you know him.” He hasn’t seen his Maker in over a decade, but that didn’t take away all the history and love between them. No human could ever know more about Godric than him.

“Stop talking like you don’t,” she deadpans, and turns around. He meets her green eyes, and holds her gaze.

“You are his,” Eric says, his stare unrelenting. It isn’t a question. Humans are property, playthings; any other scenario would be repulsive.

Illeana smiles, even though part of her is sad realising she isn’t exactly _Godric’s_. Not in the way that Sookie is Bill’s. “In truth, I believe I am more Isabel’s than I am Godric’s. But neither of them has laid claim on me.” She walks over to the bed, and sits down to put on her shoes.

“They haven’t tasted you?” Eric asks. If she’s not Godric’s, and she’s not Isabel’s, why does she remain untouched? Why haven’t any of the others tasted her? Godric might be sheriff, but without a claim, Ana should be free game.

“And up until a few hours ago I had never tasted either.” She stares out in front of her for a moment. She remembers the warm coppery feel of the blood on her tongue, the way it ran down her throat, spreading throughout her body. Ever since drinking Isabel’s blood, she’s been feeling more confident about everything.

Before she has the time to blink, Eric is sitting next to her, so close that it makes her breath hitch in her throat. His breath caresses a path down her neck. “Then what are you? Is there something wrong with you?” he breathes in sharply through his nose, wading in her scent. She wants to answer, but she can’t find the words. Instead, she feels her pulse racing faster. “No,” Eric continues. “It’s something else. Something—one of a kind.”

Illeana smiles to herself. “That’s new.” Her fingers dig into the duvet cover underneath her, and she tries to steady her breathing.

“What does that mean?” Eric pulls back, but when Illeana turns her head to look into his eyes again, their lips are hovering only inches apart.

“You don’t remember me,” she says softly. Now it’s Eric that feels her warm breath on his face. She smells so fresh, and new. Maybe he could grow to understand what Godric and the others see in her. “Isabel and the others call me Ana now. Only Godric calls me by my full name.”

“And what’s that?” He doesn’t move, and neither does she. Her blood is pumping through her veins fast, her heart thumping strongly in her chest. There’s heat exuding from the core of her, pulsing, consuming: she knows it’s one of the effects vampire blood has.

“Illeana.”

His eyes narrow, because the name does ring a bell. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“I guess not. I was only four after all.” Illeana casts down her eyes. Her heart seems to calm down a bit, realising that once it’s out, Eric will take differently to her. But lying to him isn’t an option. She’s not sure why part of her feels disappointed. “You found me sitting in my own parents’ blood.”

Illeana blinks, and next thing she knows Eric is standing. “You are that child?” he looks down at her, his stare hard and cold.

“I am that child,” Illeana answers, staring back up at him just as hard. 


	13. Forgive

She forgave Godric twenty years ago. That’s how he saw it when her green eyes rested in his all those years ago. Despite being of the same kind as the ones that took her parents from her, she found it in her small heart to look at him, to forgive him, and to trust him to keep her safe from further harm.

Godric thinks forgiveness in her nature; perhaps it’s the core emotion that separates humans from vampires. But it’s more beautiful in her. Once upon a time Illeana might have agreed with that. But now, when she sees Isabel dragging Hugo through the house and in front of Godric, all she can feel is anger and disappointment. The feelings she hadn’t allowed herself to have down in that cell come flooding over her in waves now.

“Here is the one who betrayed us,” Isabel says, and Hugo goes to his knees in front of Godric. The entire house gathers around the same room, wanting to see what lies ahead for Hugo. Illeana stands behind Godric’s chair, but Hugo refuses to meet her eye. She can’t bring herself to care.

“Hugo.” Godric looks at the human for a single second, but quickly looks up at Isabel. Isabel barely manages to make herself look back. “Do you love him?” Godric asks, even though he already knows the answer. Even now, Illeana can feel it inside of her, Isabel’s love for Hugo. She understands, but she doesn’t care for it.

“I thought I did,” Isabel answers, but turns her head when she feels tears touching her eyes. This isn’t right, she shouldn’t be crying in front of her sheriff, she’s supposed to be stronger than that. Illeana’s heart breaks when Isabel’s sorrow touches it. A vampire’s love might not be unconditional, but it cuts deep enough.

Godric raises an eyebrow. “It appears you love him still.” He looks up at Illeana briefly, surprised when he finds her focusing on Hugo. What is she looking for?

“I do,” Isabel cries.

Stan thinks it’s disgusting. He knows that Hugo is no different than all the other men Isabel has kept in the past: at least this one had the balls to betray her.

“I'm sorry,” Isabel says. “But you are my sheriff. Do with him as you please.”

“You are free to go,” Godric tells Hugo.

“What?” Stan growls, every eye in the room focused on Godric.

“The human is free to go,” Godric repeats, looking at Stan strongly. “And do not return,” he addresses Hugo again. “I fear it is not safe for you here.”

“This is a travesty,” Stan says.

“This is my verdict.” Godric grows tiresome of having to repeat this. He’s willing to forgive Hugo, for Illeana, for Isabel. He knows it’s something Illeana might not want now, but her anger will pass. She will find the beauty in forgiveness again.

Illeana doesn’t know why something in her revolts against Godric’s verdict. Some part of her wants to see Hugo suffer the way she did, _hurt_ the way she did. She fails to realise or to even notice that Hugo does hurt, even though it’s in a different way. She leaves the room without a word, without giving Hugo another look. The less she sees of him now, the better.

“Illeana.” Godric’s voice sounds behind her. She’s up in the bedroom, trying to be alone with her anger. She’s afraid to let it out. It’s a violent anger she’s never felt before.

Strange how the more she finds out about herself, the more she learns of Godric as well.

“How can you let him go free?” Illeana turns around. “Why would you do that? After what he _did_ to us!” she shouts. If it hadn’t been for Eric’s undying loyalty they would have died. _Died_. And she never would have been with him. _Everything_ , her life, her home, her _world_ would have been lost with him.

“Don’t you think he is losing enough?” Godric asks, calm as ever. She envies him the peace of mind right now. She wishes she had seen him angry before, seen rage touch his face, or his heart, then maybe she’d feel less guilty for feeling it right now. “Don’t you think Isabel is hurting enough already?”

“I can’t accept it.” Illeana shakes her head. “I'm sorry.”

Godric closes the distance between them, and puts a hand on her cheek. She leans into the touch, and closes her eyes. “But you know better than any of us, princess. You understand.”

“I wish I didn’t.” She opens her eyes. For the first time in her life she wishes she could just hate without understanding. She’s never been betrayed by someone who loved her.

“Don’t say that,” Godric says. “They would have done that dance forever. Perhaps it’s for the best. Isabel would never have turned him.”

“Like you will never turn me?”

A stunned silence falls over the entire room. Godric’s eyes settle in hers. For the first time, he doesn’t know what to make of the sentiment in her green eyes. It frightens him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says.

“No, I don’t.” Illeana casts down her eyes. “But one day I will,” she adds. In Godric’s eyes there’s nothing but sorrow. She hates that it’s her fault. “Do you want me to betray you then? Will that be _for the best_?”

They stare at each other for long moments. Godric doesn’t know what to say to her. He’s thought about turning her, in general, as a playful scenario he keeps solely to himself. But never has he actively wanted to do it. He’s never even tasted her blood.

“I'm sorry.” Illeana shakes her head and moves away from his touch. She sits down on the bed. She doesn’t know what’s up with her tonight. Everything seems different to her. Her senses have been heightened; she feels stronger than ever. And that’s dangerous.

“It’s the blood.” Godric sits down next to her, but doesn’t touch her again. “You already felt strongly before what happened, Illeana. The blood only makes it worse. Your impulses will be stronger for a while, physical, and sexual.”

“How can you—?” she stops speaking midsentence to look at him. How can he talk so casually about all of this? He must know that whatever impulses she feels are directed towards him? Can he really be that blind to all of her feelings?

“I am two thousand years old, princess,” Godric speaks carefully, and takes her hand in his. He does feel that way towards her, but nothing about his existence is right. Being with her that way, could he do that to her? Even if she wanted to? “I’ve come to see the preciousness of certain things.”

Illeana stares at their hands for long moments, frowning, and not knowing what to think. She’s afraid to feel anything more at this point. She already loves him with her whole heart. She gets up slowly, and releases his hand, not saying a single word. She doesn’t reject him, but she can’t be around him right now, no matter how peaceful. Despite being healed on the outside, she’s still hurting on the inside.

“I'm going to check on Isabel,” she speaks softly. Godric doesn’t stop her. Instead, he feels like she’s slipping away from him altogether. He wishes he could find the strength to forgive himself for putting her through that horrible ordeal. All of that had been his fault. Not Hugo’s. It was his job to protect her.

 

.

 

Isabel doesn’t say goodbye to Hugo. Her heart simply can’t bear it. She blames him, for being human, for being weak. Even though she had cherished the heart that beat in his chest, the lively blood running through him, she blames him. That’s all that humans are. Dark and vile repulsive creatures that cause nothing but death and destruction.

“Isabel,” she hears Illeana’s voice from the other side of the room. How could she not have seen? How could she not have known? She failed Godric. She failed all of them.

“Ana, leave me.” She wipes at her face, staining her hands blood red with tears. Illeana moves into the bathroom for a few minutes, grabbing a wet towel. She sits down by Isabel’s side, and takes hold of one of her hands. She runs the towel over Isabel’s skin carefully, wiping away the blood.

Illeana wants to share this moment with Isabel, wade in her broken heartedness to feel something of the sentiment herself. It’s the only thing that feels right.

Isabel goes over every conversation she ever had with Hugo, every fight, every plea, and every rejection. What possessed him to do this? What drove him to hurt Illeana in the process? What made him want to hurt _her_?

“Isabel.” Illeana’s voice does little to shake her from her thoughts. Isabel feels her hand on her skin seconds later. She knows Illeana can take away the pain if she wants to, but Isabel hopes she realises right now she needs the pain.

Illeana understands. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” she whispers. Her hand remains on Isabel’s cheek.

Illeana breathes in sharply like she’s spooked by something. Isabel picks up on it immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Isabel asks.

“There’s—someone,” Illeana frowns, her eyes focusing on an undetermined point in space. “Out of place.” Her heartbeat quickens when her gift reaches out for the feelings that are out of place. It’s natural, and instinctual, and it’s stronger than ever before. “Oh my God,” Illeana breathes, and gets up, rushing downstairs as fast as she can.

Isabel is right behind her.

“Excuse me, everyone.” Illeana hears a male voice coming from downstairs. He’s afraid, but he’s so determined to complete his task. She fears what he’s planning. “If I could have your attention. My name is Luke McDonald. I'm a member of the Fellowship of the Sun.”

“Luke,” Illeana calls for him as soon as she catches eye of him. Her voice comes out stronger than she had expected, but she knows she has to stay brave through this. His finger is already on the trigger of the bomb, the only thing stopping him the female voice calling out to him.

“What—” Luke shakes his head.

Illeana walks over to him carefully, but she stops right in front of him. If Godric knew what was going on, he’d never let her this close, but Illeana knows this is something she can do. Something she has to do. Enough pain has been caused over the past few days.

“Were you named after the prophet?” she asks.

“I—” Luke frowns. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He feels like he’s being gripped tightly around the chest, something digging its way inside his heart and his mind, willing him to stand down. It’s compelling, and he lets it in. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You don’t really want to do this, Luke. This is not what your Bible says.”

Illeana knows that Godric is watching her now as well. His presence keeps her calm.

“I—” Luke hesitates again. “These are demons. I must—lay them to waste.”

“Am I a demon?” Illeana takes another step closer, and looks him deep into his eyes. She doesn’t touch him yet. “I believe the good book says _thou shall not kill_. I don’t believe it specifies.”

“I have—Reverend Newlin, he—” Luke still wants to fight back, but then Illeana’s hand touches his cheek, a soft blue light emanating from her hand. She knows he’s caving.

“Put down your arms, Luke,” Illeana commands. She’s never felt more powerful. “You have made your point. There is no need for anyone to die.” Luke slumps his shoulders, and holds out his hand to Illeana, the trigger switch to the bomb strapped to his body laying in the palm of his hand.

Before either Illeana or Luke know it, there are two vampires by his side, overpowering him, forcing him down on his knees in front of Illeana. She feels sorry for the man, but then he never should have come here.

“He will not be harmed,” Godric commands, and comes to stand by her side. “Take him to the basement.”

The next two seconds pass in an absolute blur.

She hears the window in front of her shattering.

Before she can look at it, there’s a stab of pain running across her abdomen. “Oh my...” she hears herself utter when she looks down, and finds blood on her hands. _What_ —?

“Ana!” Isabel shouts, before her world spins around her, and gravity pulls her towards the ground. 


	14. Heart

Sookie’s heart jumps six miles high when she lays eyes on what happened. There are two loud bangs and then the window shatters. She hears Illeana say something she can’t make out and then Isabel shouts her name. But it’s Godric who catches Illeana in his arms in the blink of an eye, before her body touches the floor.

“Sookie!” she hears, and Bill’s by her side, his eyes riddled with concern. But it’s not her he should be worrying about.

“Get the humans,” Eric growls from her other side, but he’s already gone by the time she turns her head. Bill and Isabel run from the room fast, in pursuit of the humans that shot Illeana.

 _Sookie_. She catches the stray thought faintly, but it can only be one person’s cry. Illeana’s. Godric is carrying her upstairs, and Sookie finally wills her legs to move. She runs to the other side of the room, bumping shoulders with vampires and humans in her way. _Sookie_ , she hears again, and rushes upstairs.

“Princess,” Godric keeps repeating over and over again, keeping pressure on Illeana’s wounds with both his hands. Illeana’s on the bed, covered in her own blood, and Godric’s clothes are equally drenched. He takes no notice of it; his only concern is Illeana. She’s all that matters, all that will ever matter.

“Godric,” Illeana tries to stutter, but it comes out in a choked cry of pain. _Sookie, tell him_... Sookie takes a step closer and listens for any more thoughts.

“She’s trying to tell me something,” Sookie says, and rounds the bed, sitting down on the bed opposite Godric. “Ana,” she says, and puts her hand on Illeana’s forehead. Illeana wails, and searches for the right words. She can’t speak, it hurts too much.

Eric joins them in the room.

Illeana screams, crying out in pain again. She grabs hold of Godric’s shoulder, but twitches in shock on the bed. A tight steel grip takes hold of Godric’s heart, and tears spring to his eyes. Not like this. He can’t lose her like this. Not without her knowing how much he loves her.

 _He doesn’t owe me anything, Sookie. Tell him_... the pain becomes too much to handle. Illeana closes her eyes and digs her nails into the duvet underneath her.

“She wants you to know you don’t owe her anything.” Sookie frowns, and looks at Godric. She doesn’t understand what it means. Why wouldn’t Illeana want to be saved? The realisation that fails to show itself to Sookie dawns on Eric. He realises then, he _sees_ , just how much Illeana does know about his Maker.

“I will not let you die for me, Illeana,” Godric says strongly. He gives up. He has to give her this in return for everything she’s given him. Because he does owe her. He owes her his life. His love. His compassion that got lost so long ago. He owes her his forgiveness. And now he can finally give her something worthy in return.

He can give her life.

“I’ll do it,” Eric’s voice sounds from the doorway, but he’s kneeling next to Godric before Sookie’s eyes have registered the movement. She stares at Eric in surprise. She’s never thought him capable of this. But maybe, just maybe, she can understand that he’s willing to do this for his Maker.

Illeana’s body spasms one more time on the bed, before the world slips away from her again. She knows she got shot, and she knows there’s something warm and delicious running down her throat again before the darkness takes hold. She doesn’t know who or what, but she doesn’t care. It’s like she’s slipping in a warm bath, and she gives into it.

_Ana..._

_Hmm?_

“Ana. Wake up.”

She opens her eyes, and she feels she’s naked underneath the off-white sheets. She knows where she is. There’s a warm naked body that presses itself up against her from behind, and she feels his lips raining kisses down her neck. “A girl could get used to this.” She pushes back into the strong chest and feels a hand snaking around her waistline.

“That’s the idea,” he answers in a low voice, a soft smile that she can taste on her skin when his lips touch it again.

The sheets curl around her legs when she turns in the bed, but she lets them. All she cares about is finding his pale-blue eyes, so serene and so familiar. “Have you thought anything about my request?” she asks softly, putting a hand on his chest. He takes her hand, and kisses it, and then he smiles at her. “Well?” she insists, but can’t stop herself from smiling too.

“I’ve decided you’re much too selfless,” his voice is jokingly calm. “There’s no such thing as a compassionate vampire.”

She narrows her eyes, scaling his emotions, trying to figure out the layers he hides from her so well.

“What about Godric?” she raises an eyebrow questioningly, but doesn’t look away from him. She can’t look away. “He is your Maker,” she continues, digging a hand in his blonde hair. “He saved your life, didn’t he? He gave you immortality. Was that selfish of him?” she asks.

“And what makes you think immortality would suit you?” a voice sounds from behind her. She turns in the bed again, the sheets ruffling softly, and locks eyes with Isabel. Eric wraps his arms around her from behind, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“Why wouldn’t it?” Illeana asks. Isabel crosses her arms over her chest, disapproving.

“You should be the one to turn her,” Eric says, looking up at Isabel briefly. “Become a real mother to her.” Isabel gives him a hard stare, but can’t find any words to protest. She sighs, and leaves the room.

“So beautiful,” Eric whispers into her hair, his hand sneaking around her waistline again. His fingertips slide achingly slow down her abdomen, leaving goose bumps in their wake, and between her legs.

_Ana..._

She awakes with a start, her heart hammering in her chest.

She needs a few moments to take in the room, dimly lit, but familiar. It takes her even longer to realise that she’s in Godric’s room. She looks around carefully, becoming acutely aware that someone is holding her hand. It can only be him.

She squeezes his hand and he looks up. There are red lines running down his cheeks. “Why are you crying, my prince?” she asks softly, and reaches over with her other hand. Godric closes his eyes when her fingers touch his skin, tracing the trail of tears back up his cheek.

“Forgive me, Illeana.” He keeps his eyes closed, but covers her hand with his own. “I failed you. I swore to always keep you safe. I brought this into our home.” He feels utterly defeated. What kind of a man, what kind of a vampire is he if he can’t even save the woman he loves? Instead he’s relied on Isabel, and now Eric, to keep her alive.

“Don’t,” Illeana says. She doesn’t once stop touching him. “Don’t blame yourself. I am your equal, remember?” She uses his own words against him and he can’t find the strength to argue. She’s right, of course, even though a little selfish part of her wishes she wasn’t. But Illeana doesn’t push it. She bathes in the unspoken understanding between them.

She suddenly realises why she’s in this bed to begin with. The sheets are clean and she’s wearing fresh clothes, but she vaguely remembers getting shot. Right now however, she feels perfectly fine. “Who—?” she starts to ask, but maybe she already knows the answer to that question.

“Eric,” Godric says. He’s indebted to Eric, for so many more things than just saving Illeana, but it should have been him.

“Eric?” Illeana still asks. There was little emotion she had found in Eric when she first met him, much less than what she found in Godric. If she hadn’t known how vampires came to be, she’d have a hard time believing Eric had ever been human to begin with. “It’s hard to believe he did that out of the goodness of his heart.”

“If there is such a thing indeed,” Godric smiles.

She’s happy to see him smile. Part of her feels guilty for dreaming about Eric in such explicit ways, but she thinks that might have something to do with his blood coursing through her veins now. Illeana hopes dreams and him knowing her feelings are the only side effects.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted,” Illeana blurts out, even though she’s not sure where it’s coming from. She feels like she hasn’t treated him fairly, asking him about turning her, while she knows he might never be able too. She understands that much about him. She knows that about him.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Godric says softly, and puts a hand on her cheek. Illeana leans into the embrace. “Why don’t you get dressed? I will have some food prepared for you,” Godric adds. He sits up on his knees, leaning in, and plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. She almost whimpers when he moves away from her, but she tries to contain herself.

She still hopes, so fervently, that one day Godric will see that them being together isn’t wrong, and that she loves him for all that he is.

After getting dressed, she heads downstairs barefooted. It feels like ages have passed since she’s done anything remotely like it, just walk around the house, with nothing to worry about. Of course she does worry. She worries about Eric’s blood inside of her, she worries about how Godric feels about that. She worries what else life will deem fit to throw at her.

When she enters the living room, the only person she finds there is Eric, staring at the darkness right outside the window. “Godric told me what you did for me,” she says, careful not to sound all too surprised.

“Make yourself no delusions,” he says. She likes the sound of his voice. Unlike his frame, which is strong and buff and everything she always imagined a Viking would look like, his voice is soft. Detached. “What I did, I did for Godric. I don’t know what you are.”

“Thank you,” is all Illeana says in return, because she does want him to know of her gratitude. He saved her, again, even though she fully realises that this time Godric would have done so as well. It’s not that she didn’t want Godric to save her, but she knows the pain he feels over what he is, over what he doesn’t show her. The violence in him.

“You would have died for him?” Eric asks, his voice monotone, but she finds a deep-seated curiosity when she digs her way deeper into his heart. He sees now, how much she understands, and how much she’s part of this nest without forcing herself into it.

“In a heartbeat,” Illeana answers. She feels Eric’s eyes on her for long moments, but she doesn’t move. His love for Godric is strong, and she guesses that’s what keeps him quiet. But she’s still left with things to wonder about. “Do you hate me because you think I’m the one changing him? Or because I know him so well?”

“He’s been changing for a long time,” Eric answers, and turns to walk away. He’s taken several steps before he stops himself again. He turns, and looks at her, but she has his back turned to him. “I don’t hate you,” he tells the air. “You’ve kept him alive.”

Illeana smiles. This mutual understanding between them will probably never be more than that, but that’s something she can live with. 


	15. Blood

Illeana doesn’t know what to make of this new thing inside of her. She knows that from now on she will be inextricably connected to Isabel and Eric, through blood. They’ll know, always, immediately, what she will be feeling. She understands the power of blood, the allure it holds for them, and the importance both humans and vampires alike have placed on it. Isabel’s blood runs through her veins now. Eric’s blood runs through her veins now. And just for now, she doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge.

Or how she should feel about her dreams.

“Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning right now?” he whispers in her ear, and she feels a pleasant shiver running down her spine, right down to the core of her. His fingertips trace the rune tattoo between her shoulder blades.

“If I look so stunning, then why are you only thinking about getting me out of this dress?” Her eyes lock with his in the mirror, and she bites down on her bottom lip. She knows how to play this game just like any other woman.

“I thought you couldn’t read minds?” His eyes narrow, and he leans in, brushing his nose over her skin. She closes her eyes to the feather light touch, feeling it caress her heart.

“I can’t.” She smiles, feeling his hands roam over her waistline, her white satin negligee as compliant as her underneath the touch of his hands. “But you’d be surprised how little men actually _think_ when they’re— _aroused_ ,” she stresses the word, opening her eyes, and turns her head so she can lock eyes with him properly.

He smiles at her. It’s out of place, the smile, because in reality he’s never smiled at her. It’s the only clue she gets that this is actually a dream. “Is that what that is?” he asks, a devious glint in his eyes, and he hugs her tighter to him. She feels him pressing closer up against her, every part of him, and next thing she knows she’s just as aroused as him.

“Oh yeah,” she breathes in sharply when she feels his lips on her shoulder again, his teeth raking dangerously deep into skin, but she revels in the sensation. Something in her tells her this has to be a dream, because no dream feels this real, or good. But she knows that only one person could make her feel like this in reality.

“My love,” his voice is there as if she’d just summoned him up in her mind. _Godric_. When she turns her head, he’s walking towards her in the room, not fazed by Eric holding her, nor does Eric relinquish his hold on her.

Godric’s hand is on her cheek next thing she knows, and that’s one action she knows for sure she’s experienced before, because the ecstasy that travels up her spine, the bloom of her heart, that can’t be a dream, not ever. His hand ventures to new unexplored places then, his equally warm fingertips travelling down her neck, down, between her breasts.

Eric’s fingers creep underneath the straps of her nightgown, and it slides down her body, pooling at her feet. “Ours,” Eric whispers against her skin.

“Yours,” Illeana breathes, and throws her head back. As soon as her head connects with Eric’s strong shoulder, she snaps out of the dream. She opens her eyes, but remains still in the bed. Godric’s bed. She’s in Godric’s arms too, again, after what had seemed an eternity down in that basement alone. His arms are the only place she manages to feel safe now.

“What were you dreaming about?” Godric asks. Illeana figures he must have been up for quite some time. He probably noticed her tossing and turning too. She can’t bring herself to answer his question; dreaming about Eric feels like betrayal somehow.

“Eric?” Godric adds, and Illeana’s heart plummets. Is there anything he doesn’t see?

“Yes,” Illeana admits reluctantly, because she has no intention of lying to Godric, not ever if she can help it. That’s the kind of understanding they have. “And you.” She turns in the bed, her back to him again. He doesn’t understand why she’s shutting herself off from him; surely Illeana knows that he accepts what Eric’s blood does to her. And he understands this better than anyone.

But he does appreciate her honestly, no matter how difficult it is for her to admit to the dreams she has of Eric. “You don’t have to be ashamed of your feelings, princess,” Godric says softly. He looks at her, her top revealing the rune tattoo right between her shoulder blades. His fingertips feel cold when he touches her skin. Illeana shivers, but he doesn’t stop, and she doesn’t want him to. This is what his touch is supposed to feel like. This is what’s real. Not Eric. Not her dreams.

“I don’t feel that way about Eric,” Illeana answers almost immediately, and turns back to face him. “It’s not real.”

No, what Eric feels isn’t real, just an artificial connection that was forged when he saved her life. She was grateful for that, but the connections she feels, to everyone, to Godric, those are the only bonds that are real. Her feelings for Godric, those are real.

“I understand,” Godric says, and traces a finger across her cheek. Illeana smiles, and he knows she’s forgiven him for ever asking her about her dreams or her fake feelings for Eric. Forgiveness is in her nature, and it’s one of the things that makes her so beautiful to him.

 

.

 

“What are they going to do with me?” Luke asks her a few days later. Godric had immediately ordered Eric to put him in the basement when she got hurt. Illeana wished that Godric could be as forgiving to him as he was to Hugo, even though at the time she couldn’t appreciate it. But that was out of his hands now.

“I don’t know,” she answers him. She doesn’t find much evil in Luke, nor did she in Sarah Newlin, but there’s so much hatred in his heart that it might consume her if she stares into it for too long. But still, he’s human, so she’s kind enough to bring him food, even though he tried to destroy her home. She doesn’t even want to think about what would have happened if Luke had succeeded. “Godric might have let you go if the King of Texas hadn’t gotten word.”

Illeana doesn’t know how word got out so fast, but both Godric and her suspected it was Stan that had blown the whistle.

“Why would he do that?” Luke shakes his head, downing half a bottle of water in quick gulps. He doesn’t buy into the forgiveness crap, even though he’d witnessed Godric’s will to be equal to humans in the Fellowship of the Sun church. But a vampire forgiving him for what he tried to do? Not a chance.

“They’re not what you think they are,” Illeana says. She knows she won’t be able to convince him of anything in the limited time span she spends with him, but she tries. Maybe it’s in vain, but she likes to give him every possibility to see the error of his ways.

“They’re not alive,” Luke says. Illeana realizes he’s the one that’s been brainwashed. A week ago it was Sarah Newlin that believed she had been brainwashed by Godric and Isabel. If only she was able to use her gift to show them how wrong they were.

“You’d be surprised.” Illeana looks at him, and Lukes stares up at her hard, but he doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t know what it was about her words that had stopped him from activating the bomb, but something tells him she’s something other than human as well.

“He’ll never see it your way,” Godric says as soon as she’s closed the basement door behind her. She turns, but doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need her words to see the disappointment washing over her. She knows he’s right.

“What can she do?” Illeana asks instead. “Miss Flanagan?” She’s only ever seen the strict blonde on television, on the news, or in national debates about vampire rights. She’s not sure why, but she thinks that in any normal world, she’d get along far better with Sarah Newlin than Nan Flanagan. But they didn’t live in any normal world.

“Demand I step down as sheriff,” Godric answers. When Illeana’s eyes snap up, they’re full of worry. He’s long since stopped to regret her feelings for him, he knows there’s no way he can stop her from feeling the things she does. Now however, he sees it as a privilege; to be loved by such a gentle and beautiful creature as Illeana. “It’s alright, princess.” Godric walks over to her. “I am at peace with it.”

“Why would she do that?” Illeana shakes her head. Godric didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, he saved dozens of lives in that church. What Stan would have done, what Eric conceivably could have done would have been so much worse. Godric didn’t deserve this. “You surrendered yourself to save my life. Surely she can—”

“As much as they speak of equality, Illeana, they are far from it,” Godric interrupts. He regrets to see that after so many centuries of knowledge and chances to better themselves, his race is no different from humankind. They are all selfish creatures, dependent on so many things they refuse to relinquish.

“What about me?” Illeana raises an eyebrow. She’s teasing him, he knows it, maybe to alleviate the brevity of their conversation. And she’s right, there’s no need to talk politics now.

“You have long ceased to be my equal, love,” he says. Illeana stares at him for long moments, keeping herself from asking for an explanation. “How can anyone keeping me alive be a mere equal?” he adds.

Illeana looks away, smiling, biting down on her bottom lip.

“There is one way we truly could be,” she tells him later that night. She’d wanted to say it sooner, but she didn’t know how he would react. Godric knows what she means, but she adds the word anyway. “Equals.”

“I know,” he answers softly, and kisses her forehead. He’d feared the words the first time he heard her speak them, but now, in this moment, he’s accepted that Illeana knows enough about his world and about him to make the right decision. “Ask me when you’re ready.”


	16. Sanctions

Illeana knew there would be sanctions the moment they found out that Stan had killed Reverend Newlin and his wife. She doesn’t like Stan, but she feels guilty when she sees him standing in front of Godric, scrutinized by a dozen other vampire eyes.

She feels guilty because she knows Godric’s judgement is clouded by his feelings for her. Part of her hopes he can separate that part of him, and punish Stan appropriately, an entirely new part of her hopes Godric punishes Stan as severely as he can. However often he may use the excuse, he didn’t kill that family because they were the leaders of the Fellowship, or because they had done something wrong by him. No, Stan killed them because they were human.

“The Magister will decide your fate,” Godric says, and Illeana releases a relieved breath. This is for the best, she’s sure of it. This way someone else will decide, someone who can view the entire situation without bias.

“Sheriff, please,” Stan pleads with Godric. “They were just humans.”

“Illeana is _just_ human,” Godric says. There’s an anger in his voice that Illeana has never heard before, one he normally keeps hidden from her. It scares her. “Do you believe you would get away with hurting her?” And she wishes, feverishly, that he hadn’t said that to an entire room full of vampires.

The question strikes Stan like lightning. He sees Eric glancing over at Illeana, standing in the doorway, and anger flares in his eyes.

But Stan stays silent.

The entire room remains silent.

Eric stares at Illeana, hard.

Illeana leaves the room respectfully.

 

.

 

Illeana’s suspicions had been correct. As much as she admired Nan Flanagan for being a public face for the fight for vampire rights, she can’t bring herself to like the woman. Not when she walks into their home, and all she finds in Nan’s heart is contempt and disdain, disgust even. She doesn’t even try to give them any reasons to like her.

“Do you have any fucking idea of the PR mess you’ve made?” Nan Flanagan says, sitting comfortably on a settee by herself. Sookie and Bill sit on a sofa together. Illeana sits between Godric and Isabel. Eric stands on the other side of the room, watching the scene in front of him. “And who has to fucking clean that shit up? Me. Not you. I should drain every one of you bastards.”

“Stan went after the church on his own,” Eric says, but doesn’t move an inch. “None of us knew anything about it.” He doesn’t like this woman one bit. He’s not one for politics and debates, despite being a figure of higher authority. But this woman, she’s just out to place the blame.

“Oh really?” Nan looks up at Eric, unimpressed. She finds this a pathetic heap of people. How they’ve not managed to create more bloodshed is beyond her. “Because everyone who’s met Stan in the past hundred years knew he had a kink about slaughtering humans. But you, his nest mates, his sheriff, had no clue.”

“And how were we supposed to know that this time he meant it?” Isabel interjects. Illeana glances at her, but she keeps quiet otherwise. She wouldn’t know what to say either way; she’s only interfered in vampire business once, five years ago, and she’s not inclined to do it again, despite being in the middle of it right now.

“Not my problem,” Flanagan’s stare is unrelenting, refocusing on Godric. “Yours.”

“Don’t talk to him that way,” Eric says. Godric is his Maker, no one talks to him that way. Something in him tells him that Illeana doesn’t agree with Nan’s tone either, but the human girl stays quiet now. _Figures_.

“Don’t talk to _me_ that way.” She doesn’t even look at Eric when she speaks; her eyes remain on Godric. She’s here for one thing and one thing only: to see that the right people are punished in this matter. “Let’s get to the point. How’d they manage to abduct you?”

“They would have taken one of us sooner or later,” Godric answers calmly. Illeana has to force herself not to object. He’s going to take the fall for all of this for her, and it feels wrong. “I offered myself.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Godric,” Illeana objects. She can’t listen to him taking all the blame for this. It breaks her heart that he has to protect her from someone who fights for vampire equality. “He went willingly, hoping they would spare my life.” Illeana looks at Miss Flanagan, but she doesn’t get any attention, as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

“That’s a whole lot of trust you put in humans, sheriff.” Nan looks at the human girl for a brief moment, but doesn’t bother trying to understand. She doesn’t have time for this. “What makes you so special?”

Illeana stays silent; she knows that Godric doesn’t want her revealing her gift, no more than she already had. Her gift saved the nest from getting blown up, but Nan Flanagan doesn’t need to know that. People fear what they don’t know.

Godric takes Illeana’s hand in his. “What do you think?” he asks Nan Flanagan.

“I think you’re out of your mind,” Flanagan deadpans, her eyes sweeping over Godric’s and Illeana’s interlocked hands. So that’s what this was about? She’s his and the Fellowship tried to get to Godric through her? That had nothing to do with bravery, that was downright weak. Humans can be replaced.

“You cold bitch,” Eric growls.

“This is a national vampire disaster.” Nan scowls at Eric, but has no intention of backing down from her stance. “And nobody at the top has any sympathy for any of you. Sheriff, you fucked up, you’re fired.”

“I agree,” Godric nods. “Of course. Isabel should take over. She had no part in my disgrace.”

“Disgrace?” Illeana asks. What about anything that has happened in the past two weeks has been a disgrace? If anything, the disgrace was the Newlins’, for stooping to a level other humans have went but no people of God ever should. What was Godric’s disgrace?

“Godric, fight back,” Isabel says, falling in line with Illeana’s thoughts. It’s wrong for Godric to take the fall, when all he did was try and protect Illeana, save lives. “I'm to blame. I should have contained Stan the second Godric went missing.” Illeana doesn’t agree with that either, but she keeps silent. She’s to blame really, she should have seen Hugo’s betrayal coming from miles away, rather than believing his will to break free from Isabel was overshadowed by his unconditional love for her.

“Isabel,” Godric silences her with one word. “I remove myself from all positions of authority.”

Illeana has little fight in her left, because she knows now that Godric has accepted this, and some selfish part of her knows that she’ll have Godric more to herself once he’s no longer sheriff.

Nan shrugs. “Works for me.”

“ _Sookie_ ,” Bill grabs Sookie by the arm, but she still moves on the sofa. He’s never underestimated Sookie’s courage to speak up to Eric, or Lorena, but Nan Flanagan was something else entirely.

“I owe them,” Sookie insists. “Miss Flanagan? Godric _and_ Ana both saved me from a really large rapist, who probably would have killed me too.”

“That’s nice.” Nan fails to be impressed. “Moving on.”

“No, listen,” Sookie calls out stronger. “And then he rescued humans in that church, plus a whole lot of vampires. You think it’s a PR mess now? It could have been a million times worse. You should thank him.”

“For getting kidnapped?” Flanagan is quick to find an counterargument. What is it with these humans and speaking their mind? Hadn’t their owners taught them better than that? “For attracting a suicide bomber? For piss-poor judgement? I don’t think so,” she spits, and before the words are out, Eric is storming towards her, fury making him act rather than think.

“Don’t,” Isabel says, stopping Eric from reaching Nan. He wants to fight Isabel, he knows he’s stronger than her, so she’d be easily overpowered.

“Eric,” Godric calls out as well, and Eric immediately paces himself. Godric’s commands are stronger than his willpower.

“What will happen to Luke?” Illeana asks, hoping that a change in subject might cool everyone down.

“What can we do?” Nan Flanagan answers with another question. “If we kill him, the Fellowship will only be strengthened in their beliefs that destroying us is the right thing to do. If we let him go, we send a message that trying to bomb us is just fine with us. What a fucking fiasco.” She’s acting like the bomb going off would have been better for everyone, and Illeana doesn’t appreciate that sentiment one bit.

“If we don’t let him go, he’ll never see that equality is possible,” Illeana raises another argument, rather than letting her anger get the best of her.

“We?” Nan raises an eyebrow, and keeps the same disinterested look in her eyes when she looks at Illeana. “Equality? You talk like you’re one of us, while you’re not.” The words strike Illeana as an insult, an accusation, being regarded like something lower, like property. “You’re human.”

“Didn’t seem to matter to the Fellowship,” Illeana answers, done with reason or calm. She stares at the blonde woman hard, unrelenting. “They were going to kill me too.”

“She’s also the one that stopped Luke from blowing up the nest,” Isabel adds, supporting Illeana. She isn’t entirely like Godric; she’s not sure if she can see humans and vampires as equals. But she can see Illeana as a daughter, easily. “She’s right, keeping Luke prisoner will achieve nothing at all.”

“I’ll say this much, you’ve got guts.” It’s the nicest thing she’ll probably ever hear from a woman like Nan Flanagan, but Illeana still can’t bring herself to like her. Nan can’t understand that her actions that day had little to do with courage or bravery. She was about to lose her home again, all she did was react instinctually to protect it.

 

.

 

Illeana watches in silence as Godric signs the forms, releasing him from all authority. She knows he’ll always have power, he’ll always have some say over others because of his age. Worry briefly touches her conscious mind, because what will happen to her now that Godric is no longer in charge?

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” she tells Isabel once they’re left alone in the room. Isabel smiles, and accepts Illeana’s hug wholeheartedly. “Stan will go insane,” Illeana adds, and looks at Isabel.

“I don’t feel all that lucky,” Isabel says, making no further comment about Stan. He won’t be pleased about her appointment that’s for sure, but he will have to accept it. Isabel shakes her head. “Godric…”

“Godric is at peace with this,” Illeana interrupts, and lovingly puts a hand on Isabel’s shoulder. She understands that Isabel feels the weight on her shoulders getting heavier; Godric’s were big shoes to fill. “After everything that’s happened he has no regrets. Trust me.”

Isabel looks at her, and accepts Illeana’s words silently.

 

.

 

“How are you feeling?” Illeana asks him, moving to stand next to him by the poolside. She doesn’t touch him yet. Godric is silent for a little while longer, as she expects him to be. She can see it now, why he was so hard on Stan, why he so openly showed his affection for her in front of Miss Flanagan. He knew.

“I'm alright,” he answers, and glances at her sideways. She looks beautiful in the soft glow of the moonlight, her face pale, but her eyes that same clear green it’s always been. He can see it. She’d make a beautiful vampire as well. “It was time.”

“What will happen to me?” Her worry finally touches the surface. Godric is no longer sheriff, and even though Isabel sees her as a daughter, her thoughts on equality differ from Godric’s. Who’s to stop any of the other vampires in the nest from drinking her blood?

He doesn’t know exactly what she’s asking him, but he knows what he’s been meaning to say. He keeps his eyes on her hand, hanging loosely by her side, and laces his fingers with hers. Illeana now looks down as well. “You are mine, Illeana,” Godric says softly. He sacrifices a little bit of his soul, but it’s what he needs to do to keep her safe. Claim her. Own her, even though the unspoken claim she has taken on him really makes him hers. “No one will hurt you.”

Illeana smiles to herself, still looking down to where their hands are locked. She doesn’t look at him immediately, because she fears she might buckle under the sheer scrutiny of his loving eyes. And she wants to treasure this moment for the rest of her life. 


	17. Truth

There’s only one thing she’s ever really asked him for. It was clear and easy, but not always simple in an imperfect world. People lie. Vampires lie. Everybody lies. He tries not to. Not to her. Because it’s the only thing she’s ever truly asked of him.  

He tries to give her truth whenever she needs it.

“You look beautiful,” he says, and watches in fascination as she puts up her long brown hair. Her heart starts beating at a slightly altered rhythm, he’s noticed it does that a lot when he’s around. Once upon a time he’d asked her to peek inside his heart and she’d called it calm—he corrected her, calling what’s inside of him death.

“Decent enough for tonight?” Illeana asks, and gets up from her chair. It’s his last official night as sheriff of Area 9, and as tradition goes, the nest is throwing him a party. Godric had only agreed to it after Illeana convinced him a celebration wasn’t the worst of tragedies.

Illeana meets his eyes, her breathing serene, and she smiles at him softly. Right now, five years after telling him her truth, she’d still call it calm. He is dead, yes, because his heart doesn’t beat and he doesn’t dream, but the thing he perceives as a tempest inside of him is far from death. After five years, you’ll hardly find him disagreeing with her anymore.

She understands him like no other.

He knows her unlike anyone else.

“You’re perfect,” he answers, and stretches out his hand towards her. She takes it without hesitation, but she moves slowly. It’s curious how much her rhythm has changed over the years. She’s grown less hurried, less immediate. He grabs her hand tighter and raises his arm, making her twirl. Her dress curls around her like a halo.

She turns, flying, making circles in the middle of the room, and her back connects with his chest when she comes to a standstill. It surprise her how comfortable he’s feeling. He puts his chin down on her shoulder gently.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says. He glances over at the bed, remembering just how close he’d gotten to losing her, and tightens his arms around her. Her heart takes on an entirely different beat.

“I’ll be by your side,” Illeana answers, hugging his arms closer to her. There’s the tiniest flicker of fear inside of him, the kind she’s always felt when she came close to losing him. Her almost-dying has strengthened their bonds well beyond the boundaries of normal convention. It’s strange how grateful she feels for those two wooden bullets.

“Very well,” he concedes, and slumps his shoulders. He feels guilty, for things yet to come, for the thing he asked of Eric, but he needs her to know. He needs her to know that despite his concessions and acceptance, there’s still violence in him she doesn’t understand. His hands drop to her stomach as he straightens himself out, her hands covering his. He takes a breath, and puts his lips to her shoulder.

She shivers and closes her eyes to savor the moment. She knows it will only last so long. She’s accepted as much.

He can hear her blood rushing faster through her veins. He fights his every impulse, his every instinct, not because he needs to, and maybe not even because he wants to. But he’s not ready to surrender; he’s not ready to show her the true tempest inside of him.

“Godric,” Eric’s voice sounds from right outside the room. “It’s time.” He keeps any other comments to himself, knowing that his Maker will not have them, and Illeana will not care for them. He knows what Godric has asked him to do, and who was he really to disobey, but why?

Godric lets go of Illeana, and hears her release a breath. “Let’s go,” he sighs, sliding the fingertips of his one hand down the length of her arm. She shivers again, and takes another breath before turning around. Illeana wants to tell him that he should stop teasing her like this, but she knows she can’t live without it either. “I know,” he answers her unspoken thoughts, but doesn’t address it any further.

Eric doesn’t know what conspires between them. Illeana and him lock eyes briefly when Godric pushes past him in the doorway, but he knows he will never understand this bond between her and his Maker. Unless maybe he drinks her blood.

Downstairs more guests are arriving, and it isn’t long before Godric leaves Illeana. He lets go of her hand reluctantly, a thing she notices right away, because there is no reason for him to fear anything. Why is he weary of leaving her alone?

Stan has been avoiding Illeana even more than usual these past few days. His feelings towards her haven’t changed one bit, she’s still human and he will always question her presence in this nest. He’s just getting off the phone when he sees her descending the stairs, following Godric like a loyal puppy. “Illeana.” He plasters on a fake smile. “As beautiful as ever I see.”

“Save it, Stan,” Illeana answers, leaning against the doorframe while Godric takes his place in the middle of the room.

“He won’t always protect you, you know,” Stan says, and takes a step closer to her, but the distance he keeps between them is daunting. “One day he’ll leave you all alone, and then you’ll be mine.”

His threats are empty, because they both know that even if Stan managed to kill her, he’d never survive Godric’s revenge. Or Isabel’s wrath.

“I can take care of myself, Stan.” Illeana crosses her arms over her chest, and raises an eyebrow. Stan knows she’s talking about her gift, that magic she pulled with Luke, and five years ago with Godric. He doesn’t know what it is, and it keeps him quiet. “Where’s Isabel?” Illeana feels rather daring; normally her conversations with Stan don’t last this long.

“She’s excused herself for the evening,” Stan sneers, curling his lip in disgust. “Crying over that Hugo no doubt. _Pathetic_.” He spits out the word like it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever had knowledge of.

Illeana doesn’t know why she finds herself reacting to anything Stan says, but then maybe she’s just sick and tired of him talking Isabel down. After all, she is his superior now. “There is nothing pathetic about mourning the loss of a loved one,” she says, and takes a step closer herself this time. “Even you are still human enough to understand that.”

Stan looks down at her before he speaks. He doesn’t hate Illeana, in any other context he’d like her for her bravado, but it’s _what_ she is that makes her not worthy of his time. She’s human, fragile, and every bit as despicable as the _humanity_ in Isabel she speaks off. “You willing to bet on that?” he raises an eyebrow.

“I could always...” Illeana stretches a hand towards Stan’s face. She’s not sure what she’s planning to do, but it doesn’t matter anyway; Stan backs away from her immediately. “Thought so,” Illeana chuckles, still taking a step closer. This time, Stan doesn’t move, but his fear is palpable. “Your humanity is nothing you should fear,” Illeana adds, looking up at him. Stan gives her a hard stare, but doesn’t say another word.

Illeana leaves it at that, leaving Stan to his thoughts. She thinks she might have gone a little too far with Stan, but she can’t help but notice the human emotions in him, or in Eric. It’s in her nature to notice. Their emotions are there, in disguise, yes, but as long as she can recognise them as such, she’ll keep holding on to them. Even if they refuse to.

She walks around for a while and talks to some people, because she knows that Godric won’t be hers again until the sun comes up. Eventually she goes up to her bedroom. She’d told Godric she would be there for him, but with him preoccupied, Isabel gone, and Hugo no longer there, she finds little that can interest her.

“You should be more careful around Stan.” Illeana startles when she hears Eric’s voice next to her suddenly. She’s sitting on the bed, Eric suddenly there too, and she finds herself struggling for air. Still, she manages to draw in a shaky breath when she meets with his pale-blue eyes. They remind her so much of Godric’s. “You might be Godric’s now, but that won’t stop him.”

There’s a calm in his voice that she can’t help but admire. Despite the anger in him, despite the evil, nothing of the sort shows on the outside. That’s what makes him dangerous.

She swallows hard. “I can take care of myself.”

“You really can, can’t you?” His fascination with her is surprisingly growing. He can’t figure her out, not like his Maker seems to understand her, but he wants to. He wants to know what drives her, what makes her love one like him. Her blood might hold some of those answers. “Tell me,” he says, and creeps closer to her on the bed. “That magic you used on Godric all those years ago, how did that work?”

She doesn’t call him on the accusation of witchcraft, nor does her face show any change in emotion. She doesn’t have Godric under some kind of spell, or has any hold on him that can’t simply be called love. “Godric called it self-preservation,” Illeana answers, and faces away from Eric. She can’t look at him when thinking up that memory again.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Eric leans in, and his chest connects with her shoulder. Even through his shirt, he feels cold against her. A shudder shakes her body. Why is he doing this to her? Her dreams of him were unavoidable, but unwanted, and she’d gladly shy away from his proximity now. But something keeps her in place.

“Thinking about me?” Eric teases. He thinks she’s making this far too easy.

Illeana shakes her head strongly, her thoughts swimming.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know,” Eric says, his eyes never once leaving Illeana. He’s so close he can smell her, real, pure. “I know what my blood does to you.” Illeana’s dreams come back to her vividly, kisses on her back, warm hands roaming over her body.

She turns her head slowly, and finds herself staring at Eric’s lips. The aura of him draws her in. “What dreams I give you,” Eric continues. Another shudder pulses through her, her body throbbing. She doesn’t want him. She wants, _needs_ , Godric. “What it makes you want.” And then Eric’s fangs slide into place.

“No.” Illeana shakes her head again, and gets up from the bed, away from him. She reminds herself her dreams weren’t real; _he_ wasn’t real. Godric is, only Godric. “Godric...” she starts, but instead of continuing she shakes her head again. Godric is real, but he never touches her. Not like that.

“He doesn’t touch you.” Eric picks up on her thoughts, or maybe her emotions. _Truth_. Eric gets up from the bed as well.

“ _Eric_.” Illeana takes a step back. His feelings easily betray his intentions; it’s the most intense feeling she’s ever felt. She puts out a hand in front of her in warning. “Stay back.” Her breathing deepens beyond her control.

“You’ve been surrounded by vampires for four years.” Eric is still closing the distance between them, slowly but surely. “You’ve seen the marks on Sookie, saw them on Hugo. You’ve never been...” He tilts his head, and his eyes narrow conspicuously. “... _curious_?”

“Godric would never...” Illeana starts, but stops again when her back connects with the wallpapered wall behind her. She finds herself releasing a breath, and a shiver runs up her back.

“Have you ever considered that he doesn’t touch you like that because he knows he won’t be able to control himself?” He halts in front of her, and leans in to emphasize his last words. He stands close to her, no regard for any personal space, and his eyes move across her chest that’s rising and falling faster with each breath she takes.

His question shouldn’t really affect her, because of course she has considered that. _Truth_ was, Godric wanted them to be equals, and for him that didn’t include him drinking her blood. It wasn’t right. Godric didn’t want to put her through any more pain than was necessary. His feelings, that she knew were there for sure, were all she needed. For now.

“Eric.” She blinks, but Eric invades her space further. “Please,” she pleads, but that’s about the only word she can find. She’ll be the first person to admit that Eric is attractive, and that as a vampire his presence becomes all the more magnetic. But he can’t make her do this, or ask for this. She doesn’t have those kind of feelings for Eric.

“I can imagine many of us having problems at the sight of your...” He reaches out an index finger and places it on her collarbone. “Smooth.” His finger should feel cold on her skin, but it doesn’t. They’re beyond that. “Silky.” The tip of his finger moves, slowly, deliberately lower. His head dips lower too, his nose caressing the skin behind her ear. He breathes her in deeply. “Skin.”

Eric’s fangs pierce through her skin like butter and she cries out, trying to breathe through the initial pain. It cuts through her hard and fast, all the way down between her shoulder blades and up the base of her skull, until it settles on a dull steel pressure where his fangs sliced through her skin. 

Eric breathes in through his nose, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. Illeana’s still breathing heavy, blinking, feeling her own heat radiate off her to him. Her knees feel like they could give out at any moment. And then Eric runs his tongue over the puncture wounds on her neck, sucking at her skin, licking up any blood he spilled.

When he’s done, he pulls back, but his lips hover close to hers. They breathe simultaneously for countless of moments.

Illeana can’t think.

“How was that for you?” Eric deadpans.

“You bastard!” Illeana sneers, and has every intention of slapping Eric across the face when he catches her arm by the wrist. Her breathing deepens further when she sees the hint of a smile coloring his features. She wishes she could wipe it clean off his face. “You had _no_ right.”

In truth, it was only Godric’s right.

“You forget I feel what you feel now,” Eric smirks down at her, not letting go of her arm, but it’s almost as if it forms a shield between them. If he’d known she’d be reacting like this, he’d have drawn this out much longer. Godric never said he wasn’t allowed to have any fun with her.

“There’s a difference between feeling what I feel, and understanding that.” Illeana’s eyes grow darker. How in his right mind did he think he could do this to her? Where did he even find the nerve to challenge Godric, his Maker, after he claimed her as his own?

“Like you claim you understand Godric?” Eric asks, eyebrow raised. There’s another bemused smile splaying over his lips, triumphant almost, and her heart skips a beat. She never claimed to understand anyone; that was Godric’s way of viewing her gift.

“Like I understand _everyone_ ,” she breathes. _She lies_. She doesn’t understand this. How can she, after all the lies he’s chosen not to tell her? Everything he’s told her was truth, but now she realises there have always been omissions.

“You know nothing,” Eric says, and finally allows her more space.

She breathes and puts a hand to her neck, right where Eric bit her. Illeana can’t believe this is happening, that she’s being forced to understand _this_. Eric biting her had nothing to do with nerve, bravery, or even standing up to Godric.

The only way that Eric would have been able to bite her was if Godric allowed it.

“Illeana,” Godric speaks from the doorway.

She looks at Eric, but doesn’t want to grant him another word. She sees realization dawn in his eyes soon, and some sort of admiration that would undoubtedly be out of place in any human heart.

She looks at Godric, desperation closing up her throat. “How could you?” she asks him, and he casts down his eyes. But he’s not sorry, and he doesn’t disguise it either. Despite his belief that coexistence with humans is possible, he needs her to know the dangers. He needs her to know the unpredictability of a vampire’s emotions.

That is his truth.


	18. Mine

Things are tense.

She’d always known Godric’s love for her was conditional up until the moment he’d promised her he’d turn her. Something new had started there, right alongside his official claim on her. Once upon a time such a thing had seemed impossible to her, but five years had passed and they’d only grown closer. He would die for her, and she’d lay down her own life if it meant saving him.

But what now? She doesn’t know what to do with her current predicament. She’d left the nest a few hours after the sun had come up so that no one could follow her. The nest was her home, Godric was her home still, but she needed space. And mostly time.

She knocked on the one door she’ll always be welcome.

It’s been two days now, and no one has come for her. For the first time in her life she can live with that. Maybe Godric really knows her that well. She needs this time to think, or _not_ think, just be alone with herself, not in their world, but in the world she’d walked away from five years before.

“Illeana...” her mother starts, but she doesn’t know how to continue. She’s noticed the puncture wounds on her daughter’s neck, and they make her fearful of the kind of life Illeana has been leading. But it’s the life she’d chosen. With him, Godric, because she loves him. What changed?

“Mom, please,” Illeana sighs, and tightens the hold she has on her coffee mug. Even if she had the strength to talk about this her mother would never understand. Illeana’s not sure what she understands herself anymore. Conversations swim through her head, the ones she dreamed up, and the ones that really took place. But none of them justify Godric’s actions to her satisfaction.

“Did he hurt you?” her mother asks. What should she tell her mother? That Godric indirectly hurt her by having Eric bite her? That didn’t just sound ridiculous, it sounded downright childish. He shouldn’t have everyone else doing his dirty work for him. If he wanted her gone he could have talked to her instead of sending Eric.

“No.” _Yes_. Illeana shakes her head. She’s never felt this confused about anything. Everything up to now had seemed easy, despite the pain she’s been through and despite everything she’s lost along the way. But it had been destiny, a path she had to take because it was Godric’s as well. Now she’s not so sure of that anymore.

“You haven’t spent a day in this house for the past five years,” her mother says. It’s true, but where else was she supposed to go? She couldn’t stay in the nest, Stan had gloated the moment he’d seen Eric’s marks on her and Isabel hadn’t even tried to talk to her. Her ideas on equality were indeed completely different from Godric’s. “Something must have happened.”

Something did happen. Illeana has tried her very best not to see it as some kind of betrayal, but Godric had made it so difficult for her. “Can’t you just...?” Illeana starts, but only looks up at her mother to beg her not to ask anything more of her. She doubts she’s capable of much more.

“Of course,” her mother sighs, and gives her arm a good squeeze. It’s all she needs right now, acceptance, time to think. Time to figure out where the hell it is she’s supposed to go from here. And for the first time she’ll have to decide that without anyone’s help. “You’re just like them, you know?” Her mother puts a hand on her cheek, and smiles softly. “Bottling everything up.”

It’s the second time that week someone tells her that.

_“They’re letting me go?” Luke’s eyes had gone wide when Illeana came down to tell him the news. Godric had asked her to drive Luke somewhere during the day. He didn’t specify where, and frankly Illeana didn’t care much either, but for Luke’s sake it was best that he left before Stan woke up. “Why?”_

_“Because they’re not like you think they are.” Illeana opens the car door and gets inside, Luke following her example. He’s smart enough to be careful around her. “Not all of them anyway.”_

_Luke throws her a vicious scowl, not one bit convinced, but he keeps quiet._

_“You should feel lucky you didn’t end up on the menu.”_

_Luke faces away from her. “That would have only proven Reverend Newlin’s point.”_

_“No, you’re not hearing me,” Illeana says. Luke looks at her, frowning. “I would have gladly watched you die after what you tried to do. This is my home, and you tried to take that. I can barely forgive Hugo, imagine how I feel about you.”_

_“You’re no better than any of them.” Luke shakes his head. “You deserve them.”_

Maybe she does deserve them, maybe the time she spent with them had been a privilege, she doesn’t know. She tries not to think about it too much, not because she’s hurt or she feels betrayed, but mostly because if she thinks about it, she’ll be forced to understand. And right now that’s something she refuses to grant them.

“Do you want to do something special for your birthday?” her mother asks her three days later. The question strikes a delicate nerve. Her birthdays have always been more special with Godric or Isabel there, but now that doesn’t seem an option again. Not unless either of them decide to show up.

Isabel hasn’t been around at all. Illeana can understand the distance Godric has put between them, but why Isabel?

The thought only strikes her then, days after what happened with Eric: Isabel must have felt her distress immediately, but hadn’t shown up to help her.

Isabel had known all along, and didn’t tell her.

“It’s still two weeks away, mom.” Illeana avoids a straight answer. And she hopes, prays, that she won’t be here that long. She’s holding on to the hope that Godric will tell her he’d been wrong, even though she’s pretty sure he’ll never admit to such a thing. He’s convinced he did the right thing, and maybe he _was_ right, he did have two thousand years of experience. But a girl can hope.

“Still,” her mom says, “I could make cake,” she smiles, and puts an arm around her daughter, hugging her closer. Illeana puts her head down on her shoulder.

“Cake sounds good,” Illeana chuckles.

“I’ve missed you, sweetie,” her mother whispers against her forehead, and Illeana closes her eyes. She sees it then, just how safe she could be here as well, surrounded by nothing but love. There’s not even the slightest hint of violence, betrayal or hatred here. But this world isn’t Godric’s world.

“I missed you too, mom,” Illeana says. She instantly realizes there’s one other thing she’ll never find here. _Calm_. _Serenity_. Her mother’s much too immediate, too organized to ever sit still and gaze at the world, at the stars.

She’ll avoid that calm for now, because that calm would mean going back to the nest, and she’s not moving an inch until either Isabel or Godric comes and finds her. She needs Godric, but Godric needs her as well. Illeana knows he’s never connected to anyone the way he feels connected to her.

_“You know all of me now,” he’d told her right after Eric left the room. Eric had a misplaced feeling of pride in her. He never believed her gift worked the way she said, but she’d figured it out faster than he’d imagined. She knew what Godric had asked him to do._

_Illeana’s packing her bags, not knowing where she’ll turn to, but she needs to get away from all of this for a while. Maybe she needs to get back into some kind of human rhythm again to find a way to deal with this. The calm she finds in him, even in this very moment, only seems to make a fool out of her now._

_“No, I_ knew _all of you,” Illeana blurts out. She’s never liked the idea of shouting at Godric, but if she doesn’t her heart will break. “And I was_ almost _sure that I understood you.” But now, how can she understand this? “Five years, Godric. Five years!” She doesn’t know why she feels the need to shout that. “And it wasn’t even you. It was Eric.”_

_“I thought Eric might make it easier.” He doesn’t blink, or show her any indication that he’s sorry for what he did. Does she mean to tell him she’s been waiting for this for five years? For his ultimate commitment?_

_“Because of my dreams?” Illeana shakes her head, and tears fill up her eyes. The dreams don’t matter, they’re nothing, they’re illusions brought on by Eric’s blood. There’s nothing inside Eric to indicate he remotely feels that way about her. “Dreams I have no care for?” She looks at him, but he doesn’t meet her eye. “I dream of you as well. You know that.” She turns around and puts some more clothes away. She doesn’t know how much she should take with her. She has no idea how long she’ll be gone._

_He doesn’t stop her. If Eric made her realize she didn’t want to be with him, then he’ll let her go, even if everything inside him is screaming to stop her. He’s learned to put aside the need to have every single one of his wishes fulfilled. If that makes him the only selfless vampire in the world, so be it._

_She turns to walk out of the room, but halts in her tracks. There’s one thing she needs to know. “I just have one question,” she asks over her shoulder. “Why?” One simple question. She already knows his answer won’t be._

_“You can’t see?” he asks, and she closes her eyes. So he’d hoped she’d know. She understands, but she doesn’t know. All the truths, all the times he spared her his lies. What for?_

_“Of course I can see,” she says, tears running down her cheeks. She doesn’t turn around. “I can feel it.” She puts a hand to her chest, and feels her heart beating violently. “I can... I can understand it. But_ why _?”_

_“You asked me to turn you,” Godric answers, and takes a few steps closer to her. He puts his hands on her shoulders, and she still lets him. He will turn her when she’s ready, but he thinks maybe now she won’t even ask him anymore. “And I said I would, when you’re ready. But you needed to know what it entailed.”_

_“You mean I needed to know what it was I was asking of you,” Illeana corrects him. “I don’t want you to turn me because I want to live forever. I want you to turn me, because I love you. Unconditionally. I’ve always loved you.”_

_She casts down her eyes. She hates that she can still tell how much he loves her. Maybe she’d always misinterpreted that. Maybe it wasn’t love at all._

_“And now?” he asks. He didn’t think this thing he’d requested of Eric would ever make her doubt his_ want _to spend eternity with her. He’d stopped construing the thought of a life without her a long time ago. There was no life without her._

_Illeana doesn’t answer him._

Another two days pass, but she doesn’t despair. She’s not one to panic very easily. And she knows that vampires are far less immediate in their coming and going.

The sun has already set, but she’ll never get used to human sleeping habits again. She walks out into the yard on barefoot, the grass tickling her feet. The air is laden with summer time. She sits down on the swing set, wading in the memories it brings back to her. The first time Isabel came to see her, her first teddy bear. She chuckles to herself.

“I'm surprised it’s you, and not Isabel,” she speaks to the night air. She smiles, only at the memory of a light-blue teddy bear, because she feels like the rest of her life might just depend on how this conversation goes.

“Would you rather it was her?” Godric sits down on the swing next to her. It’s almost comical to see him in such a place, but she can’t find herself laughing at the situation. “I can understand if you don’t want me around.” But he had to come see her. He’s missed her, missed her laughter, and her scent. He’s missed her in his arms.

“I really want to slap you across the face, but I know you’d probably let me,” Illeana jokes. Godric smiles at her, and a fist tightens around her heart. She would give just about anything to avoid this conversation. She wants things to be as they were before, complicated but understandable. “Back at the house, you asked me if I still loved you.” And she remembers not answering. He should have known her answer without the asking. “Can I ask you one thing?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love me?” Her eyes don’t leave his. If she has been misinterpreting his feelings, then she’d like to know what they truly were. If she’d been right all along, she’d like to hear him say it, if only this once.

A shot of pain runs through him, but he keeps it in check. He has little right to feel hurt at this point. “Illeana...” It’s not a question of whether or not he loves her, it has to do with whether or not he can let her. And he knows he can.

“With Deirdre, and all the other women you loved...” Illeana interrupts him. She doesn’t like the idea of not being his only love, but she’s accepted that. If he turns her, she will be his forever from then on. If he still wants to that is. “... did you walk away when they asked you to turn them?”

“Yes,” he tells her the truth. He’s always owed her that much. “I let them live a normal live, one they could never have with me.” And he’ll gladly leave Illeana to hers if that’s what she asks of him. But he knows she won’t.

“And me?” she frowns, and shakes her head at him. Is he even trying to help her understand? “Why did you...” she almost chokes on the words. “... why did you promise? Why did you _mean_ it?” She gets up from the swing, and he mirrors her movement. Why can’t he give her any straight answers?

“Because it is you, princess,” he says without blinking. How can he tell her this properly? How can he tell her this _right_? “All these years, all this time, it has been you.” He lifts his hand, and puts it on her cheek, caressing his thumb over her skin. Tears spring to her eyes. Tears of joy, because she _swears_ she can almost feel his heart beating, _hear_ it coming to life right inside his chest.

“What?” Illeana gasps.

So he doesn’t use words. He leans in, and captures her lips with his own, feeling how her body briefly tenses up in surprise, but then mellows against his own. He can feel every inch of her against his own body. Her hands cling to his shirt while his hand digs into her long luscious curls. The smell of her, heavenly, pure and redeeming, surrounds him completely, and he breathes her in even deeper.

Illeana’s feels like her knees could buckle at any moment, the sheer assault to every one of her senses the most overwhelming sensations she has ever felt. She forgets about everything; the world around her, every single one of her previous worries, her fears. All but Godric, and his lips on hers, his hands in her hair. He envelops her.

Anyone watching them wouldn’t believe their eyes: from the moment Illeana’s tongue pushes past Godric’s teeth her hands are set alight with a white-blue light, emanating from the most primal core of her, releasing everything she’s feeling, mirroring Godric’s feelings, intensifying everything.

Godric pushes her off gently, parting their lips in a combined gasp, but he keeps her close. “My life, my love, _princess mine_ ,” he whispers against her lips, his forehead against hers.

Illeana’s knees give out, but Godric keeps her from falling. He sits down in the grass with her in his arms. “When I'm ready?” Illeana asks, and looks up at his face. She knows she doesn’t need to explain what she means.

He smiles softly. “When you’re ready.” 


	19. Prince

She can’t sleep.

Not because she’s out of the habit of sleeping during the day, or because she has yet things to worry about. It’s her heart; it feels like it’s grown wings. Illeana thinks she’s never been this in love in her entire life, not even when she’d first met Godric. She thinks the wings might just be a butterfly’s.

Godric has noticed the new sound in her heart, a new beat, a different one. It usually worries him when she can’t sleep, because it tends to mean that something’s wrong or something’s bothering her. But he can hardly say this is an alarming sound. In fact, there’s something about the way she tries to breathe and how her heart is noncompliant that rings so true it makes him want to keep it that way forever. But he knows her heart won’t always continue to beat.

“You should be sleeping,” Godric says as she stirs against him. Illeana stays quiet while her heart takes flight inside her chest; she cherishes these moments even more now, serene glimpses into a life she will one day have forever.

“Don’t tell me your dreams scare you now?” Godric asks.

“No.” She lifts her head and smiles; she’s pretty sure not even Eric can destroy this feeling inside of her, dream or not, his blood running through her veins or not. This is close to what heaven must feel like. “But how could I sleep when reality looks so much brighter?”

He pushes a defiant curl from her forehead, tracing a finger down her neck. “Vampires need to sleep too.”

Illeana chuckles. “I’ll worry about that when the time comes.” She watches his pale-blue eyes while they follow his fingertips, drawing imaginary lines over her skin. Her heart skips a few beats when she digs her way into Godric’s heart, that could have easily grown wings as well. But she knows better than that. She moves her hand to cup his cheek, but before Illeana has a chance to move Godric presses his lips to hers.

It’s something more than butterfly wings she feels then, when Godric pushes his body up against hers. She clutches at his skin while the feeling charges her, setting her every pore on fire. It’s some form of love, a needy embodiment of a word she’s long since known, but has always shunned because it was never accompanied by anything more than skin-deep lust. This thing with Godric is something much more intense though; it burns her up from the inside rather than take hold from the outside. It’s deep, and lustful, yes, but the butterfly wings in her heart make sure it feels right, for the first time in her life.

 

.

 

Illeana hasn’t spoken to Isabel since her return to the nest. She wants to believe that Isabel is avoiding her because she feels sorry, but Illeana knows she agrees with Godric; he might not have been right in his methods, but he did the right thing. But even now, after having the time to think things through, to consider the darkness, to realize that one day she’ll be trading in the sun for an eternal night, Illeana knows she belongs with Godric. Forever.

Isabel finds her eventually, outside on the porch, right beside the pool, looking up at the moon and stars. She can’t see how anything so beautiful can ever be considered evil and dark, monstrous. The night’s sky battles the same conflict, light fighting darkness, but despite the hour and despite the logic of night following day, the light is always there. No matter what, light prevails. The same way she knows it has lived on in Godric for over two thousand years.

“You seem to be healing up nicely,” Isabel says, and sits down beside her, her eyes swiftly sweeping over the puncture marks Eric’s teeth left behind. Illeana had been right, she finds no remorse in Isabel, even now. She knows she can’t expect any apologies. She figures it’s something she’ll have to get used to.

“You do know that when I tell him I'm ready...” Illeana starts, still looking up at the sky, “... he’ll ask you to do it.”

Yes, she knows that much. Godric won’t be doing it himself. He’s afraid it might break the bond between them, already deeper than that between a vampire and his Maker. He doesn’t want to hurt her either.

“You don’t know that,” Isabel says; fear rips through her, and the unexpectedness of it all frightens her all the more. She should have seen this coming. But how can she ever turn Illeana, take her life to give her an immortal one in return? How can she ever take a creature so wonderful, so beautiful, so full of life, and destroy that?

“I do know that,” Illeana answers calmly, and looks at her sideways. Isabel’s fear pulses inside of her like a beacon. It’s different from the fear that she once felt when Hugo asked her to turn him, but it’s strong enough to scare her senseless.

“You would die.”

“I’d belong,” Illeana argues. She’d no longer walk the fringes of a vampire world that doesn’t accept her as human, or a human world that doesn’t accept her as something they don’t understand. She’d no longer live in the twilight, or face the dawn alone. No, she’d belong entirely to a world illuminated by starlight. “And that’s something you can’t deny me. Not when Godric asks.”

“I—” Isabel hesitates, but is at a loss for words when she meets with Illeana’s eyes. There’s so much determination, so much hope for a life that could be made complete should she belong to one of their worlds entirely. “I suppose you’re right,” Isabel concedes. If not her, it’ll be someone else, and Isabel finds that a much more frightening thought than having Illeana by her side forever.

They sit in silence for a while, gazing up at the stars, until Illeana deems it the right time to ask Isabel for something else entirely. Something she’s been putting off to protect Isabel’s heart. “Have you talked to Hugo recently?” she asks, but casts down her eyes the moment Isabel turns her head. Illeana knows she still hurts over him a great deal, but she needs to ask. “I’d like to go see him. I need to talk to him.”

“Have you decided this, or are you asking my permission to go?” Isabel asks calmly. She hasn’t seen or spoken to Hugo since Godric ordered him from the house for his own safety. Now that she’s sheriff she has the power to bring him back, but she fears what Stan might be capable off. She won’t risk Hugo’s life by bringing him back. “Hugo is no longer mine, and I have never been able to tell you what to do.”

“Don’t say that.” Illeana takes hold of one of Isabel’s hands and squeezes it. It’s true that she has become her own person in the nest, but she needs both Godric and Isabel for different reasons. “I value your guidance more than anything.” Isabel’s like a mother to her here, looking after her, and protecting her, giving her the kind of love she needs.

“He’ll be happy to see you,” Isabel says, and brushes back a strand of Illeana’s hair. She can guess what Illeana needs to talk to Hugo about. She accepts it, because it’s one of the most beautiful qualities Illeana has ever had. “Tell him—” Isabel hesitates again. It wouldn’t be fair to Hugo if she said it out loud now, but she knows Illeana has this way of knowing her emotions.

“I know,” Illeana says softly.

 

.

 

A week later, Godric joins her on her way to Hugo. She knows he’s living somewhere in Mexico, where he’s found a new job as an accountant; just because Isabel hasn’t spoken to him all this time, doesn’t mean she stopped keeping an eye on him. After all, she could still feel it whenever something was wrong with him. They were still connected.

“Don’t be nervous,” Godric says, and takes a tighter hold of her hand. It’s one of the first times they’re out in public like this, and Illeana quickly notices how much difference there is between these two worlds she’s a part of. People stare at them wide-eyed, as if it’s the first time they’ve seen a vampire with a human girl. Others give them a wide berth of space when they walk by. Illeana’s not nervous at all, but these people are making her uncomfortable.

Hugo’s eyes go wide when he opens the door and lays eyes on Illeana and Godric. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to behave himself. Why are they here? “Illeana.” Hugo finds his voice only seconds after, but he still can’t make sense of it. Illeana hadn’t said goodbye to him; that was something not even Isabel had granted him. He’d imagined he wouldn’t see either of them again, but here she was, the girl that had once been like a daughter to him, standing on his doorstep.

From the moment Illeana lays eyes on Hugo she knows something is wrong. He looks horrible, like he hasn’t slept in days; there are dark circles around his eyes, and he looks entirely dishevelled. “Can we come in?” Illeana asks, for lack of any better words. She honestly thought this wouldn’t be this uncomfortable, that Hugo would be happy to see her, but something’s terribly off.

“I don’t...” Hugo starts, and stares at Godric over Illeana’s shoulder. He casts down his eyes when Illeana frowns at him. Is he being serious? After all that Godric has done for him, given him his freedom for hers and Isabel’s sake, he isn’t even going to allow him in?

“It’s alright, my princess,” Godric says calmly, and releases her hand. Illeana wants to protest, but Godric’s eyes silence her. “I’ll wait here.”

It’s a small apartment Illeana steps into, and she thinks Hugo hasn’t been taking much care of it. There are clothes and litter all over the floor.

“So I suppose I should congratulate you,” Hugo tells her, scratching the back of his head warily. It doesn’t take Illeana long to notice the condescending tone in his voice. “You’ve finally won him over.”

“Hugo, please don’t...” She didn’t come here to fight, and she certainly doesn’t want him to give her any reason to. Illeana knows very well she’d won over Godric a long time ago. Her heart takes flight at the sheer memory of it.

“You really think he’s going to change you?” Hugo asks strongly. Can’t she see? Can’t she see that she’s going down the same path he once walked? Godric doesn’t plan on turning her at all, no matter what he promises, that is the truth. And Hugo knows how strong a value Illeana places on truth. “After everything that’s happened?”

“That was your fault,” Illeana snaps. It’s a low blow, but it’s truth.

Hugo casts down his eyes. She has him there; he’s the one who betrayed them all. He did it to save himself, to get out of that place and away from Isabel, but he knows he can’t expect Illeana to trust him. “Still,” Hugo says, trying anything to make her see, make her realize just why he had to do what he did.

“He won’t turn me, you’re right.” Illeana crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn’t really want to talk about this, because she’s never been happier, and this subject manages to raise tensions every time. _Still_ , if Hugo needs her to say it, needs her to admit that she will get with Godric what he once wanted with Isabel, then she’ll speak truth. “But I will be with him forever.”

“Do you—do you want some dinner?” Hugo asks, pointing towards the kitchen while he pockets a hand. He doesn’t want to fight either. “I was just making myself something.”

“No, thanks,” Illeana answers, but follows him into the kitchen nonetheless.

“I suppose your cooking skills haven’t improved much,” Hugo says, moving to stir some pots and pans. He’s avoiding looking at her, and Illeana can’t help but wonder why. She knows he still feels bad over everything that happened to her, but she’s here now, he must realize there’s a reason for that. She doesn’t hate him; right now she doubts if she ever really has.

“How could they have when there’s no one around to teach me?” Illeana jokes back, and smiles at him. Hugo looks at her briefly, but breaks eye contact instantly. “Hugo, what’s wrong?” Illeana takes a few steps closer, and means to put a hand down on Hugo’s shoulder, but he moves back.

“It’s nothing,” he says, but doesn’t once look up at her. He turns his head and puts down a hand on his chest. This isn’t something he can show her or tell her. It would break her heart. But Illeana picks up on Hugo’s distress easily enough, like she’s prone to. She closes the distance between them, and pulls part of his shirt down on his shoulder, revealing vampire bite marks all over his skin.

“What is this?” Illeana gasps, her eyes going wide. “Why would you put yourself through this?”

“It feels good,” he answers wryly, but his resolve melts when he meets with Illeana’s eyes. There are tears in her eyes. How can she even look at him right now? He’s disgusting, an abomination, but he can’t stop anymore. He needs the pain; it makes him feel alive.

“Becoming someone’s chew toy?” Illeana asks, shaking her head, “Hugo, you’re better than this.”

“Oh please.” Hugo throws off Illeana’s hands, and takes a few steps back into the living room. His anger is growing, and becomes almost tangible when it’s reflected in Illeana’s heart. “You know, you’re such a hypocrite. Telling me what I can’t do, while all you want is for Godric to turn you.”

“I’ve been bitten once, by Eric.” Illeana grits her teeth together. “And trust me when I say there’s only one reason I would ever put myself through that again.”

“Why did you come here?” Hugo asks, desperate now. Why was she here? To stir everything back up? He’s been missing Isabel for weeks, his time away from the nest is driving him insane. The freedom he’d longed for, he’d prayed for, all of it seemed so futile now, because this isn’t freedom, it’s just another kind of prison. Isabel was just a lesser of two evils.

“Apparently for more reasons than I’d believed,” Illeana says. She hates seeing him like this, because she realizes she could very well have been in his shoes had Godric not cherished such deep feelings for her. It was like looking in a mirror, and it was devastating. “Don’t self-destruct, Hugo. I'm not telling you to stay away from vampires because that would really make me a hypocrite, but try to move on.”

“And the other reason?”

Illeana walks over to him, but doesn’t touch him. She looks up into his eyes, tear-shed as well now, staring at him intently. “I came here to forgive you.”

Hugo closes his eyes, and sighs. “I don’t...”

“Yes, you do,” Illeana interrupts him before Hugo can tell her forgiveness isn’t a thing he deserves. She puts a hand on his shoulder, and squeezes hard, trying to keep her tears back. Hugo throws his arms around her, and she clings to him desperately. She’s missed him, the warmth of him, his kindness and his advice. She’s missed his humanity.

“Tell Isabel...” Hugo says, but thinks the better of it. He has to let her go; he can’t go back. “Tell her I’ve moved on,” he says softly. Illeana shuts her eyes tightly, praying fervently Isabel’s heart will remain intact when she tells her this.

“Only if you promise me you truly will,” Illeana whispers in his ear.

 

.

 

“What’s wrong?” Illeana asks Godric when they’ve returned to the hotel. Her meeting with Hugo has left her absolutely exhausted, but she’s happy she got to see him, even if she found out things she never thought him capable of. As much as she one day wants Godric to turn her, she can’t imagine begging to be bitten, to go through that pain for kicks.

Godric is standing in front of the window, the sun coming up in the distance, and he stares out in front of him. “It seems I’ve ceased to understand the intricacies of human interaction.” He doesn’t understand; he doesn’t see the logic in Hugo’s message to Isabel. But he knows that there is little logic in humans, or vampires for that matter.

“He’s let her go because he loves her,” Illeana answers, picking up on his confusion, and walks over to him. She puts her hands down on his back, and her chin down on his shoulder. The sunblinds close automatically, shutting the daytime off.

“And Isabel?” he asks. He knows what Isabel has asked of Illeana as well; he’d noticed that Illeana didn’t have any inclination to tell Hugo. Yet another thing he doesn’t understand.

“She’s been letting go since she met him,” Illeana says. It’s the same thing she’d once noticed in Godric, when she met him. They were letting their love die from the moment it started, because that’s the only way they knew how to love. She doesn’t know how she got so lucky with Godric. “And yet she’s selfish enough to think Hugo will love her forever.”

Godric turns his head slightly, looking down at Illeana in an odd angle. “He will.”

“I know.” Illeana casts down her eyes. She might not have been willing to understand Hugo’s betrayal, but this she understand better than most. She can’t tell which one of the two – humans or vampires – has the most difficulty letting go, because humans move on, and vampires live forever, but she can guess. “Memories are all humans have sometimes. You see why Hugo asked Isabel to turn him? You see how difficult it is for us to let go, and how hard it is for us to witness you do it so easily?”

“Is that why you forgave him?” Godric turns around to look at her. He remembers the conversation they had the day he let Hugo go free; Illeana had said she’d never be able to understand why Hugo betrayed them. She’d also asked him whether she should betray him if the time ever came that she would want to be changed. “Because you understand now?”

“I would never betray you,” Illeana answers, a hand on his chest, staring up into his eyes.

“I couldn’t bear it if you did,” Godric says softly, and one of his hands comes to rest on her cheek. He caresses a way down her neck, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. Illeana closes her eyes, and tilts her head, her own hands remaining on Godric’s chest. Her fingers move to unbutton his shirt slowly; Godric’s body goes rigid. “Illeana, I can’t—” he says, his eyes pleading with her not to take this any further. How would he be able to say no to her?

He’s thought about this so often, he is after all still a man. Still, that doesn’t matter, because he knows what becomes of him when he’s aroused; all vampires have this tendency to bite down. And after what Illeana told Hugo he can’t do that to her. Even if she’d ask him to, he simply couldn’t. However, Illeana doesn’t stop, she undoes one button after the other, and when she finishes with the final button, her hands move up his chest, warm on his skin, so warm. He’s gone too far with her already, but he loves her so much.

Before he knows it, some instinct takes over, and his fangs slide out. He turns to face away from her, but Illeana doesn’t let him. He looks at her carefully; Illeana doesn’t even look startled. “I will not harm you,” he says.

“You won’t,” Illeana says softly, and puts a hand on his cheek. She doesn’t want him to bite her; that’s not what she’s asking of him. She’s asking him to share a lifetime with her, from now on, forever. It’s been a long time since she’s used her gift on him consciously, but she digs into her own heart, finds memories, and reflects his usual serenity back into him. She can keep him calm, and she can have him now. “I won’t let you.”

Illeana moves back a few inches, putting some more distance between their bodies, but slowly removes the straps of her nightgown. The gown slides down her body, pooling around her feet. “Princess,” Godric breathes, eyes sweeping down her body. Illeana stretches out a hand for him, and he’s done hesitating. He moves closer, their skins touch, Illeana’s hand back on his cheek.

He leans in, his lips brushing hers. “My prince,” Illeana whispers, her breath a hushed touch against his lips. She kisses him, and he feels everything of _them_ inside of him. It’s a kiss between the moon and sun, between night and day. Between a tempest inside of him and a new found serenity within her. A light emanates from her hand, her desire mixing with his, and he feels the storm passing.

He retracts his fangs without thinking about it, without feeling the need to. Now he knows. Illeana is the only one for him. His only equal in history. His future.

 


	20. Wake

They’d gone to bed before midnight, entangled in each other’s arms, not speaking, and witnessing hushed sentiments in each other’s eyes. Illeana had fallen asleep; he knows using her gift is taxing on her body, and the act of love even more so.

Only now he can’t sleep.

He has lived for two thousand years already, more than a few lifetimes and then some, but despite the weight of history that rests on his shoulders and despite of all the people he has met in his many years, he realises he’s never encountered anyone even remotely like Illeana. She is his equal in all ways but one: her mortality.

He never could have imagined he’d find someone like her: so beautiful, so understanding, so accepting. She’s twenty-five years old today, and has barely glimpsed her own existence. He imagines all the things he could show her, but something in him swiftly grows sad. Illeana will die when she’s turned. Her mortal life will be replaced by an immortal one, but some part of her – he can’t stand to think which part – will die. Her heart will stop beating.

She will stop dreaming.

Godric looks at Illeana, still sleeping, her outlines only just discernible in the dimly lit room. She’s naked underneath the sheets, her back to him. His eyes wander across the rune tattoo between her shoulder blades; he doesn’t touch her because he doesn’t want to wake her with his cold fingers. He can tell she’s dreaming now; her eyes are moving fast behind her eyelids, and every once in a while a little sound escapes her. A gasp, a moan, or just a breath.

He can’t sleep, but he’s happy just watching her like this.

Illeana stirs in the bed; it’s just past midnight.

She wakes up calmly, only to open her eyes and gaze right into two plastic teddy bear eyes. It’s pink this time. The sheets rustle noiselessly, cracking like paper but softer, and breeze softly against her skin. One of her toes ventures from underneath the bedspread, but it’s cold so she pulls her leg back up, stirring lightly, and as she does her back connects with Godric’s bare chest.

A light shiver runs through her, and the hairs at the back of neck stand up, but she forgets about that instantly the moment she feels Godric’s lips against her skin. Illeana bites down on her bottom lip and smiles to herself, because of the teddy bear but mostly due to the wings around her heart.

“Happy birthday,” Godric whispers against her skin and wraps an arm around her waistline; his hand is on top of the sheets rather than under it. Just to be safe. His ease with her has grown steadily, but surely. Illeana’s gift allows them to be close in a way that he had never expected.

“I really am getting too old for these,” Illeana says, and narrows her eyes on the pink bear. She takes in a shallow breath, because her heart feels like it might take flight at any moment and slip away from her.

“I don’t know about that,” Godric answers, and smirks, mostly to himself. “I think it’s a lovely gesture.” He never thought Isabel could ever grow so attached to a human being in a motherly fashion, but he’s never discouraged it once.

“You say that now, but wait until I hit two thousand like you.” Illeana takes hold of the fluffy animal, drawing in another breath, deeper this time, and hugs the teddy tightly against her chest. She never wants to forget this morning, not any of the previous ones, or any of the amazing ones that are bound to follow. She wants them imprinted on her skin, tattooed, so they can stay there forever and others can read them as her story. Her skin would only read two words; one of them? _truth_ , all the others? _prince_.

Godric chuckles lightly; she’s always loved the subtlety of it, soft and old at the same time. Calm and serene and other things she envies him for sometimes. She wonders what kind of vampire she would make, but she imagines that Godric’s tranquillity will take her quite some time to find. Still, once a vampire, she’ll have all the time to reach it.

“Close your eyes,” Godric whispers in her ear, and the urgency he manages to put in the three little words has Illeana’s heart skipping a beat.

Illeana turns, and looks at him curiously. She doesn’t ask him why though; she trusts him. She closes her eyes again and shifts to lie on her back. Godric sits up in the bed; Illeana can hear him fumbling around with something in the drawer of the bedside table. Then she feels his hand on hers, and something cold being slid around her finger.

“Godric...” she says while opening her eyes, not yet glancing at the ring. But as she does, all words are lost on her. It’s a solid gold ring – silver would have been cruel – inlayed with three red stones. Illeana blinks, because she’s pretty sure her eyes are deceiving her; no one’s ever given her a gift like this. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” Godric is quick to answer. He doesn’t tell her how old it is, mostly because he knows she’d be afraid to wear it, nor does he tell her what he means by it. For him, it means eternity, nothing more, but certainly no less either.

 

.

 

Illeana finds it strange how she’s never paused to think about the unlikelihood of it all. Losing her parents the way she did, Godric finding her and her gift affecting him so crucially. Such an unlikely turn of events, one she suspects not even Godric could have foreseen. Who would have thought, considering her first experience with vampires, that she’d fall in love with one? And that same vampire would love her back – _finally_ – unconditionally?

The sun gleams hotly in the sky as she heads to her mother’s house. She walks, because it’s a beautiful day out, and she suspects it might just be one of the last ones that she’ll be able to spend in the sun. Illeana thinks she’s ready, or she soon will be. She looks down at the ring around her finger. Godric hadn’t told her what it meant to him, but she knows as much. This was his ultimate token of commitment, one she didn’t really need.

The door is unlocked when she arrives at the house, so she ventures inside. “Mom?” she calls out, and peeks around the living room; there’s no one there. She smiles to herself when she finds her promised birthday cake on the dining room table, twenty-five candles adorning the chocolate icing. “Mom, where are you?” Illeana calls out again, but once more gets no reply.

Illeana frowns to herself. She wonders if her mother was still in bed, but finds it unlikely, because the cake is out, the table set; her mother must have been up before dawn. There’s a pervading smell in the air she can’t quite place, something hot and coppery, and she wrinkles her nose when it gets stronger as she makes her way towards the kitchen.

She’s too late to notice something feels terribly off, something’s missing in this usually warm and loving home.

“Mom?” Illeana calls again, her voice faltering, growing smaller. She pushes the door of the kitchen open carefully. Something touches the wood on the outside, making the door harder to open. Illeana breathes in, the smell hitting her like a tidal wave, awakening memories she thought she’d long since stored away. But it’s there again, that uncertainty, that infantile fear. Something’s died.

For three split seconds, her heart stops beating. She looks down at her shoes, dark red liquid touching the rubber outlines.

Illeana breathes in again, but it’s a gasp when she lays eyes on the human body not six feet away from her, laying torn and mangled all to hell. “M—” she doesn’t know what she means to say when the letter forms on her lips; it’s more a cry of distress than an actual word.

She grabs hold of the doorframe with one hand, trying to steady herself, trying to make sense of things and getting her bearings. But the room spins around her, the smell penetrating her every sense of reality. She blinks hard and takes in short shallow breaths that only make her heart beat faster.

And then she snaps. It’s something rebellious and _un_ accepting.

“No!” she shouts, releasing the doorframe, and taking a few steps towards her dead mother.

It proves to be her undoing. Her distress makes her lose her footing, and she slips in the blood, the sticky thick gooey thing on the ground. She crashes down onto the ground, her jeans absorbing her mother’s blood.

And that’s where she stays.

 

.

 

Isabel wakes up violently in bed, Illeana’s name whispered alongside the distress that grabs hold of a place very close to her heart. It’s just a minute before it passes again, and becomes a dull sensation at the base of her spine, but she knows what she felt.

Something’s wrong with Illeana.

But it’s daytime.

 

.

 

The sun hasn’t even set properly when Isabel and Godric set off from the house to look for Illeana. Her scent leads them to her mother’s house. He finds it strange that she’d find any sort of distress there. But when he finds another scent accompanying Illeana’s, he knows just what might have triggered it. He fears what might have triggered it.

“Ana!” Isabel shouts the moment they walk through the door. When Godric hears something shift at the back of the house he knows it’s Illeana, but she doesn’t answer. He rushes towards the kitchen before Isabel can.

When he catches sight of her, he thinks she’s still twenty-five years old. A beautiful woman, the same woman who had left the house early this morning, right after sunrise.

But when he kneels down beside her, she’s not twenty-five years old.

He looks at her mother’s lifeless body, Illeana’s eyes fixed on it.

He frowns to himself. This wasn’t done out of hunger, this wasn’t done for feeding. This was done for reasons Godric doesn’t even want to think about. He can’t think about it, not when he finds Illeana, four years old again, her fingertips dipped in the now-cold liquid, her body shaking, making rhythmic movements back and forth.

“Illeana,” he says softly, and carefully places a hand on her shoulder. Illeana’s eyes are wide – tear-shot – when she looks down at his hand on her shoulder.

“They won’t wake up,” the four-year old inside her answers. She hasn’t touched them; she hadn’t dared, but she knows they will never wake up again. What is this? Déjà vu? A bad dream she is yet to snap out of? Or a feat of karma that life deemed necessary to thrust upon her, because she is soon to leave this mortal coil for another world, forever?

“I know, love,” Godric says softly. He tries to catch her gaze, but where she’s staring he can’t follow. She’s inside a memory, only becoming more real now that he is here. He doesn’t know if this time he’ll be able to reassure her she’s safe.

“They came back,” Illeana says, her lips trembling.

“Who came back?” Isabel asks, kneeling down at Illeana’s other side.

Illeana looks at Isabel, eyes still focused on infinity. “The same,” she says, but Isabel doesn’t understand. She couldn’t. Illeana can still feel them. “I can feel them. They’re the same. They did this...”

“Are you sure?” Godric asks, realizing that whoever it was that killed her parents seventeen years ago were the same vampires that took her foster mother now. But it couldn’t be, because this scent he recognizes. It’s impossible.

“It’s not your fault, Ana,” Isabel says, and puts an arm around Illeana. They pull her up from the ground together, coagulated blood thickly clinging to Illeana’s legs. She can hardly stand at all.

“They won’t wake up.” A wail escapes Illeana’s throat as Isabel and Godric lead her out of the house, waterfalls noiselessly streaming down her cheeks. She feels that cavernous grief again, that hole, a black hole, pulling her in closer to the event horizon. She knows grief ends, and some of the pain eventually, always, ebbs away. But this, she can’t ever imagine this going away.

At the house, Isabel gets her out of her bloodstained clothes and into the shower. Illeana doesn’t speak, just cries silent tears or tries to blink them away. She doesn’t pause to think how much alike a real mother Isabel is acting, washing her, trying to speak consoling words. But Illeana doesn’t notice, and she can’t hear anything.

After the shower, she lies down on the bed, on top of the sheets, and remains there, hugging her knees close to her body. Her mind draws blanks whenever someone speaks; she can’t place the voices, or the words, and she feels no particular urge to.

“Princess,” someone says, she can’t be sure who it is.

“I can’t feel anything anymore,” she speaks, or not, she’s not sure, but the voice doesn’t say anything else. She knows she’s not alone in the room though, and next to the numbing pain inside her chest it’s her only confirmation that anything is happening at all. That she’s still alive.

Illeana closes her eyes. At first, she pretends to sleep, not realizing that Godric can always tell when she’s really sleeping. She tries not to think about what happened, but she’d been looking at her mother’s body all day, and the image of her is seared into her retinas. Why did she ever think that this was a life she deserved? What was she expecting of life after aligning herself with vampires? These blood-thirsty animals.

“I can’t...” Godric speaks to Isabel, right after closing the bedroom door behind him. Finally, after lying down and pretending to sleep for hours, Illeana had fallen asleep. He didn’t know how long that would last. “I don’t know how to comfort her.” Nor does he know what to say to her. He wanted to tell her that she was safe, but he’d said it so often he feared the words had lost most of their meaning. Especially now.

“None of us do,” Isabel answers. She fears the emptiness she’d seen in Illeana’s eyes earlier today. Illeana has lost so much already; Isabel fears this might have been the final straw. She fears Illeana might just blame her entire kind for what happened. And she’s right to. “There might be one who can.”

“We cannot,” Godric says. He can’t tell if Isabel says this for Illeana’s benefit, or to satisfy a more selfish desire. “Hugo’s no longer yours, Isabel.” He sees it now, not fully of course, because that would be asking too much of a heart that’s been in stasis for so long, but something in him understands why Hugo wants Isabel to believe that he’s moved on. Vampires hold on too tight, too possessively. Perhaps they really are wrong.

“You know who’s to blame.” Isabel looks at Godric, arms crossed over her chest. Godric nods, almost unnoticeably. It seems impossible, but she knows better. “Should we tell her?”

“No.” Godric glances back at the closed bedroom door. Inside, he can hear Illeana struggling in her nightmares. “Not yet.”


	21. Death

When Eric arrives at the nest the room grows even more silent than usual. He doesn’t spot Godric, nor does he find Isabel, the new sheriff in town. He does find Stan, outside by the pool. “What’s going on?” Eric asks, because he’s not used to this silence, this tension hanging heavily and crucially in the air as if he can almost see it.

“What do you think is going on?” Stan spits, and glances up over his shoulder, towards one of the first floor bedrooms. The lights are on, and the shades are drawn, but Eric knows all too well whose room it is. _Godric’s_.

“Illeana,” Eric almost growls, and looks up at the dimly lit window as well, his eyes growing darker as they focus closer on the glass barrier. “She doesn’t belong here,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Someone should make that clear to her.”

Stan nods his head in agreement, and crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t know if he should admit it, but he figures he has an ally in Eric. He winks. “Someone already has.”

Eric glances at him slowly and carefully, but when a smirk creeps across Stan’s features, he knows.

 

.

 

Illeana has been staring at Godric’s ring for hours. She thought she knew what it meant when he’d slid it around her finger. She thought she understood him now, knowing all of him completely; the violence, the empathy and everything in between. But now that she’s staring at the golden piece of jewellery around her finger, she can’t find any meaning that makes sense.

Why would he ever make that commitment? _How_ could he ever make a commitment? How could he love her? He was just a vampire. A two thousand year old vampire who was empty when she’d first met him, devoid of any sort of connection to the human world he craved to understand. Illeana gave him her everything, had given up a whole world to live in his, to devote herself to him. And how did that world repay her?

She’s been in bed for three days on end already. She hasn’t eaten, barely slept, and hasn’t spoken a single word. It’s like she can’t feel the edges of herself anymore; she doesn’t know where she ends, or where she ever began. She just _is_ , lying there on the bed, the lines of her blurring, drifting in and out of nightmarish slumbers that haunt her. Every time she closes her eyes she loses a little more of who she is.

Her head feels like it’s been filled with cotton and ice, numb and painfully present at the same time.

She thinks about Stan, and his appetite for human blood, his distaste for humanity and his bloodthirsty hate for her. The only reason she still lived was because Godric and Isabel protected her from him. Has her love for them made her so blind to the dangers of the nest, of vampires?

“Ana,” a voice reaches her, and somewhere inside her heart she manages to realize it’s Isabel’s. “You have to eat something.” The bed dips behind her, but she doesn’t turn; she doesn’t move at all. Isabel gets up when Illeana doesn’t reply, and rounds the bed. She puts down a plate on the bedside table. “Hugo is much better at this than I am,” Isabel says, and smiles softly.

Illeana closes her eyes, and resists the urge to speak. She knows that whatever comes out of her mouth now would only be hurtful.

“I'm sorry,” Isabel apologizes almost immediately. Perhaps she knows that mentioning Hugo right now is selfish and in no way helping Illeana recover. Maybe she’s just apologizing because she notices her words strike a sensitive nerve, but doesn’t realize why. “But you do have to eat,” Isabel adds, and pushes Illeana hair out of her face gently. Her hand feels cold, another reminder that Isabel is anything but human.

Illeana glances over at the plate on the small cupboard, filled with a small stack of burned toast, and she can’t help but chuckle at the sight of it. “You should definitely stay out of the kitchen in the future,” Illeana says, surprised to hear the sound of her own voice again. Isabel’s eyes mellow, wonder spreading across her face as well.

Isabel staring across the room is the only thing that tells Illeana Godric joins them. He must have heard her speak; or maybe it was the sound of her laughter. “Eat,” Isabel reiterates, and stares at Illeana. There’s so much love and compassion in her eyes and in her heart that Illeana almost forgets she’s dealing with a vampire at all. Isabel gets up, and leaves the room. Illeana knows that before leaving, Isabel and Godric exchange some words, and she swears she can hear the word _Eric_ somewhere in there.

“Eric’s here?” Illeana asks, without moving on the bed. The bed dips behind her again; Godric this time. She doesn’t feel like speaking, or facing Godric, but Eric being here doesn’t make sense; he’s never liked it here. “Why?”

“He—” Godric hesitates. The emotion hits her like a tidal wave, even though she hasn’t been paying much attention over the past few days. Godric never hesitates, which can only make his pause mean one thing; he doesn’t want to lie to her, but he’s considering it. He wants to spare her in this time of suffering, but she’s not sure if she should accept it. If he has something to say, he should say it. She’s learned the ways of his world; she’s just as used to them now as he has always been.

Illeana turns to lie on her back; it’s the first time in a long time she’s allowed herself to look into his eyes. She did so as a child, and found trust and caring in a vampire that always believed he had long since lost the sentiments. She does so now, and she remembers. It’s something that clicks suddenly in the back of her mind, even though it’s always been there: Godric isn’t like everyone else she’s ever met, human or vampire. It’s not fair to treat Godric as the rest of his world has always treated her.

“Do you know who did it?” she asks him, eyes pleading for an answer. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if the answer is yes. She imagines she’ll either break down further, or find a darkness inside herself she’d only thought vampires capable of. If Godric knows who did this to her, again, did this to her mother, then she has a right to know. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Godric lies, if only to protect her heart from a grave and dangerous truth she might never recover from. He’s never once considered lying to her; but this, this he can’t tell her. Not while he’s not even sure.

“You’re lying,” Illeana says, and puts a hand down on his chest. Godric stares down at her hand, casting down his eyes. He can’t, he just can’t. He loves her too much to hurt her. “Don’t do that to me. Not now,” Illeana pleads further. He looks up into her eyes again, pleading as well. She could make him tell her, he knows that, but she won’t.

“Princess, I can’t...” He wants to tell her not to ask this of him, because even if he tells her there is nothing either of them can do about it. It’s a matter for Isabel first, and then the Magister.

“Tell me,” Illeana insists, her eyes growing darker. He doesn’t know what it means; he doesn’t understand human grief. He fears what the answer could make her do, could make her capable of doing.

“We can’t be sure,” he answers softly.

“Is that why Eric’s here?”

“Yes,” he whispers. Illeana feels a shiver creeping up her spine. Eric, another vampire, was here to help her. They aren’t all bad.

Godric pulls the bed covers over her carefully when she turns back on her side. He lies down behind her, watching Illeana pick up one of the pieces of toast, the one less burned.

 

.

 

“How are you feeling?” Illeana hears Eric’s voice behind her suddenly a few days later. She’s showered and feels clean again, and for the first time in a long time she doesn’t feel like going straight back to bed. She knew this would happen eventually, her grief slowly going away.

She has a theory about that though. People say that grief goes away, and she used to think the same, but now she thinks that maybe it’s something else entirely. It doesn’t go away, you just give it a place somewhere in your heart. It becomes an extra weight to carry. She thinks that’s maybe why people grow older.

“Do you care?” Illeana asks in return. Her back remains turned towards him; she can almost feel his eyes on her. She hasn’t been having any dreams about him anymore; she figures she’s just not capable of them after everything that’s happened.

The room stays silent for long moments. Eric doesn’t answer her question for the same reason she doesn’t answer his. Neither of them knows the answer. Illeana doesn’t know if she’s all right, or if she will ever be able to feel normal again. Eric doesn’t know if he cares about this creature that seems to mean so much to his Maker.

“If I ask you who did this to my mother...” Illeana starts, turning her head slightly. He can see the strongest form of determination he’s ever seen in her eyes. Does she know? Does she suspect? Should he tell her the truth, even though he knows Godric would prefer he didn’t? “... would you tell me the truth?”

Eric remains silent. Illeana knows that Godric probably told Eric to keep it to himself, but she’s been suspecting something for a few days now. There is one thing Eric shares with another vampire in this nest; a feverish disgust for humanity. Stan. Which might be exactly the reason why Eric was here.

Illeana gets up from the bed, and Eric can’t stop his eyes from noticing the rune tattoo between her shoulders again. He wonders if Godric has always been truthful with her; if he has, Eric feels like he should grant her the same thing. It’s sudden, and unexpected, but he knows that one day, perhaps soon, Illeana will make one strong vampire.

“Stan?” Illeana’s voice is monotone.

Downstairs, Eric hears the entire nest taking in a breath, followed by an ear-deafening silence.

“ _Eric_ ,” he hears Godric warning him, his Maker outside by the pool with Isabel.

It’s only then that Illeana turns to face him. There are no tears in her eyes, only the same strong determination as before. He feels like he’s been caught between two fires; he has no doubt Illeana has ways of getting the information from him. He never thought this possible, least of all with a human, but he’s pretty sure he tells her the truth with his eyes.

“Stan,” Illeana reiterates, a statement now. Eric looks away from her slowly.

Her breathing deepens once the real truth of the matter sinks in. She searches her mind for answers, for signs, for clues. How could he have kept this from her all these years? How hadn’t she seen it when she came into the nest? Was there really no humanity in him, unlike she had once told him?

No one, not even Illeana herself, could have seen her reaction coming.

She takes a few big strides towards the door, rushing by Eric, runs down the stairs and into the living room where she catches eye of Stan. All eyes in the room are either turned to her, or Stan. “Is it true?” she calls, feeling her chest dip painfully with every breath she takes. But right now, in this very moment, she refuses to shed any tears. “Did you kill my parents? My mother?”

Stan smirks at her, and Illeana’s eyes narrow. She feels her throat constricting with each intake of breath. Stan gets up from the couch, Godric between them before Illeana has registered his presence. Isabel’s behind her, and Eric goes to stand behind Stan. “Does that really surprise you, princess?”

Illeana cringes when she hears the pet name falling from his lips.

“All this time!” Illeana shouts, and shoots forward. Godric turns and holds her back, Isabel grabbing her shoulders. “All these years!” The words pour out of her automatically; it doesn’t help with the pain at all, in fact, it’s only making it worse. And then there’s the anger, coiling inside of her like a spring. “How can you even look at me?!” She struggles in Godric’s arms, but he holds her back effortlessly.

“Because for all these years, _princess_ ,” Stan answers calmly, and it infuriates her even more, “despite your little magic tricks, you never once noticed.”

And just like that, Illeana is ready to kill him. Something inside her snaps, something no one could have guessed was even buried inside of her, but all the years of not knowing, of living in the dark about what happened to her parents, of nightmares with faceless monsters, culminate in this moment. The moment where she realises just how potentially lethal her gift could be to Stan.

“Hold him down,” she speaks through clenched teeth.

“Illeana...” Godric says softly. How he’s even capable of staying this calm is beyond her. No amount of calm or compassion can help her now. She has to let it out, the anger, the pain, everything Stan has caused her to feel.

“Hold. Him. Down!” she shouts, looking at Eric. He doesn’t know why he listens to her, but he understands her need for revenge. Whatever she’s got planned for Stan, she deserves to put him through it for what he took from her. Eric grabs Stan by the neck, and forces him to his knees.

Illeana looks at Godric then, her eyes pleading with him to let her go so that she’s not forced to use her gift on him.

Godric’s only ever seen her like this once before; the first time she was visiting the nest, and she calmed down a hysterical vampire. That’s what he sees in her now; the same determination, but laced with so much anger this time. It doesn’t suit her.

He lets her go, because he has to.

Illeana takes a few steps towards Stan, halting directly in front of him, staring down at him. Her eyes are tear-shot again, but she’s determined not to cry in front of any of them now. She raises one of her hands, and places the fingertips against Stan’s cold skin. She can feel him cringe against her touch.

“What are you... what are you doing?” he asks, fear seeping through in his words.

“I'm going to show you a magic trick,” Illeana deadpans, and looks up at Eric slowly. “When it starts, you don’t want to be holding him.”

Eric’s not sure at all what it means, but he has the slight suspicion that he doesn’t want to find out first-hand. As soon as he sees Illeana’s hand light up with the same white-blue glow he saw her use on Luke, he releases Stan. Stan can’t move anymore.

It’s only when her fingers touch Stan’s skin that Illeana knows what to do, as if the idea had been imprinted in her long ago but has been unlocked just for this occasion. She releases it, everything. Everything that’s been building up inside of her over the past week, the crushing sorrow she felt after losing her mother, the twenty-one year old aching pain she felt over losing her parents. Everything that makes her human. Everything Stan despises her for. She lets it go. It starts from her heart, a bright beacon inside her chest, travels across her skin, raising the hairs on her arm, and exits through her fingertips.

She makes Stan feel exactly what he put her through. She lets him experience the one thing he hates more than anything in this world, even though he was once human himself.

“Illeana,” is the last thing she hears, before she feels her body reaching its limit. She releases Stan with a breath, and he falls down limply at her feet. She breathes in, feels her knees buckling underneath her.

Someone catches her mid-air.

She knows it’s Godric.

 

“ _Godric_...”

 

“He’s up on the roof,” Eric says when she passes him in a hallway, familiar and alien at the same time. She feels as if she’s been here before, or at the least should have been at some other point in her life. “He’s waiting for you.”

_What_...?

 

“But the sun is coming up.”

“I know,” Eric says, and gives her a hard stare. His heart is devoid of any kind of loving feeling when she sneaks a peek inside. There’s only sorrow. And fear. She doesn’t want to think about why he should be fearful.

The same fear grips her heart tightly when she realizes why Godric might be up on the roof. She can’t believe that after everything they’ve been through, it will come down to this. She moves, and grabs the railing of the stairs, but Eric grabs her arm before she can climb it. His touch is not as cold as his stare. “You talk him down from there, you hear me? Whatever it takes.”

 _I will_ she means to say, but the panic in Eric’s eyes stops her from mouthing it. It _will_ come down to this. He knows that. She knows that.

She climbs the stairs slowly, the surreal feeling of the steps moving and her world spinning around her refusing to let go. When she reaches the roof she catches eye of Godric immediately. He’s standing like he’s always standing. Calm, composed, and looking towards the horizon.

“Godric, what are you doing?” she doesn’t take the time to do this calmly, but she doesn’t realize her own voice reaches her from much further away. She’s been here before, in this nightmare, the sun rising, only now it’s just the two of them, and no one is laughing or craving to see them burn.

“I told you, a long time ago, that I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be.”

She doesn’t know what he truly means to say. She’d told him she would settle, but the years they’ve spend together since have changed them both at crucial points. They’ve both compromised, and somehow, strangely so, they’ve both gotten everything they’ve ever wanted. He can’t possibly be telling her he doesn’t love her; his heart would betray that lie easily.

“Our fates have been intertwined since I was four years old,” she says, still keeping her distance. “I didn’t fear you, and you looked at a human differently for the first time in your existence. Don’t tell me that didn’t mean anything.”

She knows for sure now; there is such a thing as destiny. He was hers. She was his. Simple, but truth.

“It meant the world to me.” Godric turns and smiles softly. “You have no idea how much you’ve changed me, Illeana.”

She does know, or has at least some tiny inkling of it. She’s showed him the world of human emotions, showed him that he could control himself, that equality wasn’t a mere hope he had to keep to himself. It was possible.

She walks over to him and laces their hands together between their bodies. “You...” Godric hesitates, and the sensation strikes her just as strange as it had before; she’s never known him to struggle for words. “You would have me?”

Illeana wants to ask him what the question means, what it entails, but she catches sight of the sunrise out of the corner of her eye. She’s dreaming. She must be dreaming. Godric squeezes her hand.

“Completely,” she whispers softly.

They both look towards the horizon together, hands still locked. Illeana sees smoke rising from Godric’s skin, and she looks at him, alarmed. But Godric keeps looking at the sun. And so she keeps quiet, and takes in a breath she suddenly realizes she doesn’t need.

She looks at her own skin, and realizes that now, she’s burning too.

 

She shoots up in bed screaming, not because she hopes that the sound of her voice will chase away the monsters this time, but because she can almost feel flames licking her skin.

Godric is in the room with her suddenly, looking at her urgently. She beckons him closer by putting out her hand. She sits up in the bed, Godric sitting down close to her.

“Tell me you love me,” she says.

“With all my heart, my princess, I love you,” Godric replies, and puts a hand on her cheek. He doesn’t know how else to express it, this burning feeling inside of him, the passion he feels whenever he’s around her. He thinks it might be life itself.

Illeana draws his face closer to her, until her forehead is resting against Godric’s. “I want you,” she says, biting down on her bottom lip. “Completely,” she breathes, and opens her eyes slowly. Godric is already staring at her, but his eyes don’t betray his emotions at all. He knows what’s coming; he’s been waiting for it a few days now. “I'm ready,” Illeana whispers, and feels her heart thudding dully in her chest, but a truth reverberating throughout her that keeps it calm.

Godric doesn’t say a word, but closes the distance between them and captures her lips with his own. Illeana’s hand clutches at his shirt, a fire set ablaze at the core of her. He is all she’s ever wanted, all she’s ever needed, and together, one day, they will face the end of time. When Godric pulls back, she’s not had nearly enough of him, but she knows that any moment now, she’s going to have him forever.

Godric gets up and leaves the room. Illeana puts a hand to her mouth, and smiles.

Isabel is in the living room when Godric joins her. She releases a shuddery breath when he looks at her. “Turn her,” Godric says.

“Where are you going?” Isabel asks, a question to buy time, to prepare herself for what she’s about to do. Because there’s no point in discussing this anymore; Illeana will become one of them, and Isabel would prefer it was her that did it rather than some stranger.

“There’s something I need to finish,” Godric answers.

He keeps his promise to Illeana. He will keep her safe, forever. But he won’t hurt her in the process either. And this way, with Isabel turning her willingly, she can have a mother again. For all eternity. He can give her his love, a home, a family. The bond, created between a vampire and his Maker, they already share.

 

.

.

.

 

“This is the second time you’ve been brought before me,” the Magister says, staring down at the pathetic heap of vampire at Godric’s feet. “What’s wrong with him?” he asks, because Stan doesn’t even move. The Magister looks at Godric, about a thousand years his senior, but Godric doesn’t say a thing. “The girl?” he adds.

“Yes,” Godric answers. The Magister learned of Illeana long ago, because she seemed to have an effect on vampires not many humans have. She had a gift that could be extremely useful.

“Then I don’t know what further punishment we can pass out,” the Magister concludes. He can only imagine what Illeana must have put Stan through. “His fate is yours to decide, Godric.”

Godric stares down at Stan, and considers his decision one last time. But his mind has been made up; he’s crossed too many lines in the past and has gotten away with too many things. Godric beckons another vampire closer, who hands him a thick silver stake.

He doesn’t blink when he plants it in Stan’s chest, and pushes all the way through to his heart.


	22. The End

People say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.

 

.

 

_2008_

“You are mine, Illeana,” Godric says softly. He sacrifices a little bit of his soul, but it’s what he needs to do to keep her safe. Claim her, own her, even though the unspoken claim she has taken on him essentially makes him hers. “No one will ever hurt you.”

Illeana smiles to herself, still looking down to where their hands are locked. She doesn’t look at him immediately, because she fears she might buckle under the sheer scrutiny of his loving eyes. And she wants to treasure this moment for the rest of her life.

“Godric,” Eric’s voice slices through the atmosphere, but doesn’t feel out of place. How could it in this very moment? Both Illeana and Godric turn their heads to look at Eric. His head his slightly bowed, the way it usually is in Godric’s presence. “A word,” he adds, and glances at Illeana briefly. It’s clear he doesn’t want her there.

“Of course,” Godric answers, Illeana leaving his side wordlessly. She knows when her presence is needed and when it’s not. She’s learned that much. Eric’s eyes bore their way into her back as she makes her way into the house; she’s just inside the room when she stops in her tracks. Something inside Eric’s heart still hates her. “You think me selfish?” she hears Godric ask.

“You’ve spoken of her and equality in the same breath for so long...” Eric fails to find more words. He’s just witnessed his Maker making this human his, and it sickens him to his stomach. But he’s also seen the change in his Maker, a change for the best that has him clinging to the life Illeana can offer him. He suddenly wishes he hadn’t spoken at all.

“I love her, Eric,” Godric says, and Illeana feels a smile crawling to the corners of her mouth, her heart making a leap in her chest. “You can understand that,” Godric adds, even though he knows that asking Eric to understand the emotion is a great feat indeed.

Eric remains silent. He’s come to accept Illeana’s presence, but he doesn’t know whether or not he can ever accept the place she’s seamlessly taken up inside the nest.

 

.

 

_She wakes with a start._

_Outside, she can hear the fireworks starting early; it’s barely eight in the evening._

_When she sits up in the bed it feels unnaturally gracious, one smooth movement upright. Illeana puts a hand to her chest; beneath the palm of her hand there’s a stillness now that never used to be there, a missing of something vitally crucial. Her heart. It doesn’t beat anymore._

 

.

 

_2010_

A cold hand brushes her hair to the side, hesitant fingers caressing a short path down her jugular vein, and then desperate eyes find their way into hers. “You are certain this is what you want?” Isabel asks, voice trembling.

“There’s no going back for me, Isabel,” Illeana answers. She’s never expected much from life, because a world where getting your hopes up immediately means having them shattered had little left in the realm of expectation. She’s never expected much; not when she learned that every little thing that went bump in the night was real, not when Godric accepted her by her side. Not even when he made her his. She’s never expected much and she thinks maybe that’s why she’s getting everything she’s ever wanted now.

Isabel leans in, and Illeana closes her eyes. She tries to summon the memory of Eric biting her, of how it had felt when the pain cut her in half, just to have some idea again of what’s about to befall her. Isabel’s fangs pierce through her skin like butter, and Illeana draws in a short pained breath.

She feels like screaming, feels like fighting the pain of Isabel’s lips sucking at her skin, fight against the realization that Isabel is literally drawing the life out of her. But she doesn’t, because she knows this is what she wants.

 

.

 

_2032_

Her fangs slice through the young man’s skin as easily as always; he tenses up momentarily, breathing through the pain, but he quickly relaxes and allows Illeana to continue feeding. She usually doesn’t feed directly off humans this way, nor does Godric, but they’re Eric’s guests tonight, and declining his offer wouldn’t be polite.

Illeana thinks Eric does it especially to taunt her, since Godric and her have become such fervent supporters of vampire-human equality, but neither of them allow the annoyance to touch their hearts. They both know Eric now, and know that he would never do anything to really harm them. Maybe, just maybe, Eric has come to accept Illeana for the person she is: Godric’s wife and lifelong companion.

She orders the youth from the room minutes later and settles back next to Godric on the sofa, savoring the effect human blood has on her vampire body. It’s like it spreads through her entirely, swimming through her veins, elevating her body temperature with a few meaningless degrees. She puts her head down on Godric’s shoulder when he puts his arm around her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly. It pains her to know that he understands her still and she now has to rely on her instincts in trying to understand him. The years she spend in the nest as a human were absolutely vital; she needed those years to know him completely, independent of her gift.

“Nothing,” she lies, because she’s never made him any promises about telling the truth, and saying it now might hurt him. She knows that much.

Godric looks down at her. “It’s your heart, isn’t it?” he says, and she slowly looks up at him. She hates the guilt in his eyes even more than she does the hole where her heart should be. She asked to be turned, longed for it with – ironically – her heart, entirely, so she can’t blame anyone but herself. And she does, blame herself.

Illeana casts down her eyes. “I can’t get used to it.”

Godric kisses her hair softly.

 

.

 

_2010_

At the age of twenty-five, when destiny has bestowed her with the worst and the best possible kinds of fate, Illeana Tyler dies at the hands of a vampire. Not in the way her parents did, or her foster mother. No, she dies willingly, because all she used to love is now dead, and everyone she still loves will live forever.

She thinks that becoming a vampire might finally put a stop to this Mary-go-round ride, to this cycle of needing hope and having that hope shattered in the most horrible of ways time and time again. An end to the pain.

Isabel had driven her to the woods, because apparently a Maker and his Child had to spend a day and night in the ground together for the turning to take. Despite being wholly ready, Illeana’s nerves are on edge and every one of her senses is on high alert. For all intents and purposes, she’ll still be dying. She’s afraid to think of what she’ll lose, so she focuses on all the things she will gain.

Isabel as her Maker.

An eternity with Godric.

Everything.

“Try and relax,” Isabel says, lovingly placing a hand on Illeana’s shoulder; unlike it usually does the touch makes her heart jump in fear. She wants this, she _needs_ this, but right now all she feels is the cold night air breezing across her skin, raising the hairs on her arms.

“Where’s Godric?” Illeana asks and looks around anxiously. She needs him more than ever. She wants him to be the first to look at her when she emerges from the ground.

“He’ll be here when you wake up,” Isabel answers, concern still riddled all across her face when Illeana sits down on the ground, looking up at her soon-to-be-mother in anticipation. Isabel still knows she shouldn’t be doing this; she doesn’t _want_ to be doing this. But this is what Illeana wants with all her heart.

“Thank you for doing this,” Illeana says softly, and swallows hard in an attempt to slow down her heartbeat. She fails.

Isabel picks up on her anxiety easily enough. “Just relax, Ana,” she says, and sits down by Illeana’s side. Her cold hand brushes Illeana’s hair aside.

 

.

 

_2051_

The graveyard is eerily horrific at night, especially in the autumn weather, only accompanied by the brief rustle of leafs. Illeana doesn’t like it here one bit, but nighttime is the only hour she can go out, and she wasn’t going to deny Isabel this.

“Do you think he was happy?” Isabel asks, her arm linked in hers, and they both stare down at Hugo’s grave. It’s a big dark gravestone with golden lettering.

“I think he was,” Illeana answers softly, feeling her eyes tear up when she thinks back on all the nights she’d spend with Hugo, talking over coffee, or him trying to teach her how to cook. She smiles to herself; how useless that skill was now. Though she thinks that if Hugo had known he probably still would have wasted his time on her. “Doesn’t mean he ever stopped loving you,” Illeana adds, because she knows Isabel needs to hear it.

“You can’t know that,” Isabel shakes her head, and a stream of bloody tears escapes her eyes.

Isabel is right; she can’t know that, not anymore. But she’d known Hugo, and despite the contempt he’d felt towards her once he found out Isabel had indeed turned her, she knows that he’d loved her. She’d seen him once after she turned, fighting his addiction with fangs and trying to start a new life for himself.

She knows he married, and had two kids. He was happy; she might not know that for certain, _will_ never know for certain, but that’s a truth she finds in her heart now. Maybe there still was something inside her that was human after all.

 

.

 

_2010_

People say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.

How true a saying that is.

She sees, right behind her eyelids. _She_ _sees_.

The little hand of a four year old drawing flower patterns in a pool of blood, simply because she doesn’t know any better. It goes cold but she still manages to have fun with it, because she’s only four and only such things matter in the life of a toddler.

The little hand of a toddler on a two thousand year old vampire’s pale skin, a white-blue shine coming from her blood-covered little fingers. He had to keep her safe, he knew that in that very moment, and has known it ever since, because her ability might wane, but their love never will.

The hand of a little girl on a grown vampire’s, making smudges on her perfect skin. The vampire doesn’t move her hand, but looks at the girl the same way she does years later; as a daughter. “Don’t worry,” Isabel says softly, “You are safe now.” The young girl doesn’t know any better; she believes the nice lady in front of her.

Her little hand reaching out for a fluffy animal hesitantly, the first of many yet to come, while the swing she’s in rocks her back and forth. It’s a sad day, but pain goes away eventually.

Her hand reaching for the door of the tattoo parlor, but his voice stops her for the first time. “Hello, Illeana,” the voice says; she knows who it belongs to all too well. She only gets the tattoo two hours later, after Godric is long gone, and her knees finally stop shaking.

Her hand closing the door to her dorm room, while her other already reaches for one that will become familiar in years to come. It’s the day that she turns her back on one world, and tries to gain entry into another.

Her hand reaching for his chest when he tells her to look into his heart. “It isn’t calm,” he says, his eyes settling in hers. “It’s death.” She tells him he’s lonely instead, but deep down she knows she’s speaking of herself more than anything. His hand comes to cover hers lazy seconds later. “I cannot be what you want me to be.”

Her hand reaching for her own chest once her mother asks her whether or not she loves Godric. “I do,” she answers, two words she’ll repeat twenty-two years later when she marries Godric. She finds her heart beating fast, rhythmically, and in chime with a greater truth: she will never love anyone else the way she loves Godric.

Him lifting his hand to her cheek, caressing his thumb over her skin, telling her everything she’s ever wanted to hear. “Because it is you, princess. All these years, all this time, it has been you.” Tears spring to her eyes. Tears of joy, because she swears she can almost feel his heart beating, hear it coming to life right inside his chest. “My life, my love, _princess mine_.”

And then, with a final dull thud, Illeana’s heart stops beating.

She dies.

 

.

 

_Her legs dangle over the side of the bed loosely, her feet making imaginary footsteps in the air. All the movements come so easy now, flawlessly so. Godric moves in the bed behind her, and in a reflex that’s too human still, always, Illeana draws in a breath, only to find the movement feels unnatural. Her lungs don’t need the oxygen._

_When her feet touch the ground, there’s not much of a difference in temperature anymore. This time around her footsteps come silently, as if she’s a ghost, roaming through the house, intricately attached to it because it’s her heart, her love. Her home. She haunts her home now, because some part of her can never let go again._

 

.

 

_2010_

“Ana, you have to eat something,” Isabel says strongly, and shoves the cup of human blood back under Illeana’s nose. The smell appeals to her so greatly that she almost considers taking it and downing it in a few greedy gulps. But something inside her, a remnant of her once human heart, keeps her from doing it.

“You said Tru Blood would sustain me,” Illeana answers gravely, turning her head away from Isabel and the extremely appealing cup of human blood between them.

“But it won’t give you the strength you need,” Isabel insists, reluctant to admit even to herself that Tru Blood is a vile and ghastly drink no vampire should be subjected to.

“I'm not...” Illeana shakes her head, her lips remaining parted once her fangs slide out. It freaks her out so much she jumps up from the couch. “I can’t!” She looks at Isabel, but walks to the other side of the room. “Not yet,” Illeana adds finally and crosses her arms over her chest. She’s hungry, hell yes, she’s famished, but she’ll continue to refuse human blood until she’s ready.

Isabel admits defeat, and Illeana leaves the room quietly.

“ _You_ reason with her,” Illeana hears Isabel say seconds later. There are footsteps on the tiled floor, followed by the tap of Isabel’s heels. “She needs to feed, Godric,” Isabel adds. Illeana hears the microwave being opened and a glass bottle being put inside. Godric doesn’t say a word.

Illeana knows that Isabel only has her best interests at heart, but she also knows that if human blood was that vital, Isabel could easily command her to drink it. She is her Maker after all. Tru Blood will do for now; if it is the only taste she knows now, she’ll never want for anything else. In truth, she doesn’t feel like a vampire yet. She’s too prone to trying to breathe, too careful around other vampires still, even though they are of the same kind now.

“Princess,” she hears behind her, and a split second later, Godric is sitting next to her by the pool. He hands her a bottle of Tru Blood in silence; Illeana doesn’t look at him. She feels bad, ashamed for wearing her hunger so outwardly on her face. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed, love,” Godric reads her mind effortlessly. Illeana looks at him slowly. “It’s only natural.” He leans in and places a kiss right next to her lips. “Drink,” he adds softly.

Illeana puts the bottle to her lips and takes one careful sip, the fluid running over her tongue sluggishly. She swallows another two sips before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She feels her fangs retracting as if she has no control over them. Godric tells her that won’t always be so.

“What’s wrong?” Godric asks when Illeana remains silent and just stares down at the bottle in her hand.

Illeana looks at him, eyes wide, and wrinkles her nose in disgust. “It really is quite horrible.”

 

.

 

_Everything comes effortless now. She doesn’t know exactly when in the past few years it had happened, but she understands now; why Godric had once told her there was only death inside of him. That’s what she feels inside herself now. A stillness, a hard black rock right inside her chest._

_She puts a hand against the blinds in the living room, and feels the last hints of the sun’s warmth inside the palm of her hand. She flips one of the switches on the wall, and the blinds slowly open up; new technologies allows them to look straight into the sunlight now. Her trade of day and night had been conscious, but she’s grateful she still gets to witness these wonders._

 

.

 

_2010_

The first time he sees her she’s not the same person he met all those years ago. There’s mud and dirt in her hair and on her skin and she looks like a scared little lamb about to be taken to slaughter. But then her eyes, the same evergreen eyes that are unmistakably hers, find their way into his. He walks over to her, and crouches down by her side. “Illeana,” he says softly.

When her fingers touch her cheek, Illeana rears back in fright at first, because there’s no longer any difference in temperature between their skins. “I can’t...” she says, and places her hand over his, her other hand moving to his chest. “I don’t...” she breaths, not realising she doesn’t need the oxygen. He doesn’t know what she’s trying to say.

“Calm down, princess,” he says, but Illeana does everything but. He can see red-rimmed panic filling up her eyes.

“I can’t... f-feel,” Illeana stutters, and he understands instantly. He stares down at her hand on his chest and realises what she’s so desperately looking for. He was afraid this might happen, feared that some part of her wouldn’t be revived and would disappear from her altogether.

“It’s okay, love.” Godric puts his arms around her and pulls her close, rocking her in his arms. His white shirt becomes blood-stained with her tears, but he doesn’t care. He only has to keep her safe from harm; nothing else matters.

 

.

 

_2020_

It is the year 2020 and she’s forever twenty-five, but that doesn’t stop Isabel from celebrating her birthday. The date has moved on Illeana’s request, because her human birthday brings her too many memories of her mother’s death, but it is the only allocation Isabel had granted her.

Every year on the dot, there is a teddy bear to be found somewhere in the house. It’s all fun of course, but if Isabel keeps this up for the rest of eternity, Illeana thinks she might need a house just to put all the stuffed animals. Godric tells her that the oldest ones will probably decay before it ever comes to that.

“I'm not a child,” Illeana says strongly, inching back in the bed to get closer to the warm body next to her. She knows Godric’s body is really cold, but she doesn’t feel the difference anymore; it’s one of the best changes since she became a vampire.

“That you are not,” Godric agrees, and leans in to kiss her. Illeana turns in the bed to allow him to capture her lips fully, and when she does, they melt into a deep burning kiss. She wouldn’t give this up for anything. Not for the world. Not for miracle resurrections. Not even for her heart. That is truth, and it will remain so for the rest of eternity.

 

.

 

_2030_

The ring Godric gave her has been there for years now, but with her death had come the serenity she had always admired so much in the rest of her new-found family. A tranquillity that put aside human urgency and immediacy. So it’s been there for years, waiting, anticipating this very moment.

She looks at herself in the mirror, at the short white gown she bought two weeks ago, at the curls in her hair that she’d spend the past two hours perfecting. At the bouquet of flowers on the dresser that she’ll walk down the aisle any moment now. If she’d been alive still, her nerves might have killed her. But instead of the raging storm her heart would have made, there’s only dead air, unmoving noiselessness.

When Eric comes to stand in the doorway, she knows it’s him immediately. Not because her gift tells her so – she lost that ability a long time ago – but because she’s learned to distinguish the odd sound people around her make, the way they smell, the way they move. These are new things she understands, but in this world, in which she belongs completely now, she’s far from unique.

“You think him selfish,” Illeana says, not a question, but a belief she knows Eric has held for a long time. Godric had always spoken of equality between humans and vampires, but still turned her into one of his kind. They’re equals now, much in the same way they were before, but Eric still sees the hypocrisy in all of it. And she guesses she can’t really blame him for that.

“I do,” Eric answers in short, because he knows that despite losing her gift, Illeana gets him in a way few others do. He figures it’s her strange connection to Godric, the same in kind he and Godric have.

“I'm sorry.” Illeana turns to look at him.

He thinks she looks beautiful, but he doesn’t once consider telling her that. That’s not his place, and it is definitely not in his nature. “What for?” Eric asks.

Illeana frowns to herself. She doesn’t know exactly why she apologizes, but she’s pretty certain that when she speaks the words she means them unconditionally. Maybe she apologizes for being the one keeping Godric alive, maybe her reasons are undecipherable entirely.

Eric watches as her reflection in the mirror slowly places a hand over her heart. He’s seen her do it before, or look down to where her heart should be beating. Isabel tells her she’ll get used to it; but he’s not so sure that someone like Illeana ever could.

 

.

 

_The humans, or what is left of them, are celebrating a new millennium, and she realises that soon, not too long from now, not long at all in a vampire’s life, she’ll celebrate her first millennium as a vampire. She takes off her ring, and makes it sparkle in the dim sunlight still left, before returning it pristinely to her pale ring finger._

_Outside there is the incessant crackling of fireworks, the sun setting behind the horizon, painting the sky orange and pink and darker shades that are always unique. Beyond the pops she can hear people laughing, drinking, getting drunk and passing out long before the year 3000 comes. She remembers celebrating the year 2000 with her mother like it was yesterday._

_In her human state she would have cursed her memory, even though she’d told Godric long ago that memories are the only things humans have sometimes. How much more true it is for vampires._

_The world outside has changed, but Godric and her, and all the others her kind have not changed alongside it. They remain the same, in stasis, from now until forever. She’s done her best fighting for human and vampire rights alike, for equality and other things barely imagined when she was human._

_Most of the time she’ll even find herself admitting, or realising, that she loves her life. It still is everything she’s ever wanted. And she imagines that won’t change in years to come._

_But then her memory kicks in, and she remembers how her heart would grow, blossom at such thoughts once, and a tinge of melancholy touches her eyes in the form of blood-red tears._

_She hates the hollowness inside her chest._

_“Princess,” she hears behind her. He’d promised her they’d watch the start of the new millennium together. It’s just the two of them in the entire house. He walks over to her, his bare feet hardly making a sound on the floor._

_Illeana doesn’t move, but waits until Godric is standing behind her. She waits patiently, for something she knows that is bound to happen, because it always happens. Just how once she kept him alive and gave him a reason to live, he has become her reason to continue on. He’s always been her reason._

_Godric puts his lips to her shoulder, and Illeana closes her eyes, and she takes in a breath she doesn’t need and always, oh yes, there they are._

_Her butterfly wings._

 

 

 

**\- the end -**

 


End file.
